"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.
02-26-2017, 04:16 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2017, 04:44 PM by smitty.)
Aquila & Craonos
The Akvian mare had been… lost after the reveal of Kaos. Never before had the wariorress felt such emotions in her chest as when she had seen Kisamoa arise out of the sea those fateful days. So she had dove deep into the sea, choosing to grasp onto the hope that, if Kaos had been able to show them a reef from the Rift, then perhaps there was some way back to her home.
In one fell swoop, Kaos had undone all the seasons of work the aquatic mare had made in moving on.
Her scaled ears ears flicked to an fro as she slowly emerged from the waves for the first time in…well, it felt like years. She had been beneath the waves for so long…the sun was hot on the Isles as compared to when she had dove down, the day of the bone monster.
Her gills tried to suck air, and she stumbled in the shallow surf with her precious cargo, as she forgot to use her nostrils rather than her gills to breath above the waves. Already too-large eyes widened in fear as they jerked to the ovoid object that bobbed gently in the surf in front of her scaled forelegs, a gasping snort exploding from her ridged nostrils as she remember to use them.
Aquila’s concern was understandable, the elliptical object (—an egg—) was exquisite. Aquatic blues and greens, along with bright jewel-like colors of fish and coral, played along it surface in undulating patterns that mimicked the sea’s swells. With each kiss of the ocean, a burst of silver scattered across its shell.
Luckily, the egg that the Akvian had procured from deep beneath the sea (remarkably close to where she had entered Helovia from the Rift) was made of sturdier stuff, and so did not fracture when Aquila stumbled into it.
Slowly, carefully, she rolled the egg free of the clear water and onto the soft sand. The colors slowly muted as the shell dried, becoming the pastels of morning rather than the vibrant pallet of late day. Bright, aqua and yellow eyes stared down at the egg, lost and confused, seeing it as her only anchor to home.
Slowly, a patchwork of swirling cracks spread across the egg’s surface once it was entirely dry. Aquila’s unblinking gaze followed it, waiting apprehensively. Should she have kept it beneath the waves, submerged so that it never hatched? Kept it safe until she could find a way to return both of them to Akvo? Never had the mare been more uncertain.
Parts of shell began to fall away in scroll-like pieces, elegant even in it’s hatching. An, beneath the surface was an aquamarine-tinged, white narwhal calf, “Balenokorn,” was her hushed, throaty whisper. They did not live in the tropically warm waters of Akvo, but they were revered creatures from cold, northern seas in the Rift. Known for their nobility, justice, and knowledge.
Aquila began to drag the remaining shell and newly born narwhal back to the ocean, worried that it needed water. But two dark, soulful, already ancient eyes stopped her as the narwhal leviathan slowly levitated out of the broken shell pieces. It did a few lazy, unsteady flips, before thrumming a contended sigh and resting back onto the warm, white sand.
“Craonos,” Aquila whispered, naming the proud, wondrous creature after the first Akvian to unite all the fighting clans and begin Akvo’s Golden Age. Perhaps this creature would be the one to unite Aquila with Akvo. Or, at least, unite all of her broken, failed pieces.
Warmth flooded into her—a sensation she had not felt since her captain’s approval before she left the Rift— as she felt this young, hopeful, calm soul invade her own.
And, for the first time, she submitted to it, allowing another to take over herself.
The Basiner had no intention of spying on a hatching - but the swim here had been far more arduous than she’d expected, and a simple exploration expedition had turned into an incredibly hard workout. Luckily for the horned mare, she’d grown up by the sea and swimming had been an early part of her childhood. Spent, and sprawled out on some lush grass just beyond the beach, she raised her head when she heard splashing down at the surf. Rolling to a more upright position, Wessex finds herself a silent observer to a rather miraculous event with a most unusual looking unicorn.
Lizard-eyes widen when the whale cracks the shell, realizing that that’s how companions come in to the world, because she’s 99% sure that regular whales are birthed, and not hatched. At least that’s what her mother told her, long ago. She then immediately wonders if Nimue might want to know, because there seem to be a noticeable lack of fellow floating whales. They weren’t the same kind, but surely the uncommon must stick together, right? Ah, but now Wessex is in the awkward position of needing to reveal herself. Maybe pretended ignorance is best. “Hello?” she calls out, then makes a bit of a fuss (loudly, that is - and it’s not hard, with her size) about hauling herself to her hooves and shaking as much dried sand as possible.
Unsure of how possessive the other might be, Wessex keeps her distance and simply looks over at the pair with a curious gaze. “Cool whale…” is eventually what comes out of her mouth, but only because she isn’t sure what else to say.
He quickly found through trial and error that the Riptide Isles were some of the best flying grounds. Given that he needed more practice, a lot more, he began to frequent the warm island. Aside from it's usefulness, its beauty and the memory of gathering to meet Kisamoa here stuck out in his mind, favoring this place for him through experience too. Although the betrayal of Kisamoa being kaos was a dark stain on Iskra's heart, he was able to preserve the moment of happiness (blissful ignorance) he had when they were here marveling at Kisamoa and his talents. Holding onto what was good to ignore some of the bad, even if it was all connected, was the only thing that kept Iskra sane as he grew up in the ghost of his mother, and so it was easy for him to do it in the shadow of the rising evil threat.
Iskra had to hold onto the happy, wherever he could find it, because the sad and the mad threatened to overtake you otherwise. There was enough of that in the world, Iskra reasoned, that he didn't want to make any more, and he certainly didn't want to have any of it.
So when he spied the interestingly marked mare stumbling from the waves, shiny egg in tow, he crooned out happily. There was nothing better than a bonding, or so he felt given his last experience. It was an exceptionally thrilling moment, and was sure to lift spirits. Thus Iskra invited himself to it, and began the lazy circles to descend slowly towards her (landing was still the hardest for him, so he was cautious about it).
By the time he finally made it down the egg had already cracked open and popped out a whale, and another mare had joined the fishy horse. Iskra wasn't one deterred by company though, quite the opposite, so he whistled out a greeting as he neared. Feet stretched out towards the sand to land, purposefully a little bit away from them in case he whiffed it, but the temperate skies here granted him an unusual grace. Kicking up a little bit of sand and letting his momentum carry him for a brief job once landed, Iskra made it successfully! A smile planted itself on his face, pleased with himself, and his wings shuffled shut as he turned around and joined them more properly.
"Hi!" he greeted cheerfully, his grin widening as he glanced at both of them, focusing on the finned horse. She alone was marvelous and utterly intriguing, but her companion was especially so. Quite different from the fuzzy, stripped critter that Esinakh hatched, this one was a small, floating whale. "Wow!!! You bonded! And to a whale!? How is it doing that??" His eyes were big as saucers, but he laughed pleasantly as it bobbed around, as if still int he waves. "That's so cool! What's its name?" Seemingly aware of his manners then, Iskra followed up with, "I'm Iskra by the way. I saw your hatching and wanted to congratulate you, it's an awesome experience, so I hear! I found an egg myself, but it isn't ready yet..."
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
03-26-2017, 10:47 AM (This post was last modified: 03-26-2017, 11:11 AM by Aquila.)
Aquila & Craonos
“Hello?”
The call and loud fuss break through the calm, warm moment Aquila shared with her newborn bonded. Aqua and yellow eyes snap open, ridged muzzle leaving the smooth, white narwhal’s skin as she jerked her face towards the source of the words. Too-large eyes narrowed slightly as they glared warningly towards the many-horned unicorn; the other was right to approach with caution—Aquila, apparently, was possessive.
Unblinking eyes ticked carefully between each horn that sprouted from the other’s skull, assessing their sharp, red points carefully from the distance the grey mare kept between them. Aquila’s own, many barbed tail rattled softly in warning—though the distance held and the other mare remained curious rather than threatening in posture, a “Cool whale,” confirming the other’s lack of threat.
Scaled ears flicker around uncertainly, horned head slowly raising, “Balenokorn,” was her throaty correction to the other, “Not just ‘whale’.” In contrast to Aquila’s wary actions, however, the newly born Craonos flipped wobbly through the air in newborn exuberance and delight. He slowly drifted out towards the grey mare—though Aquila’s outstretched muzzle herded it close back to her striped chest. So the creature’s dark eyes peered out towards the newcomer, warm and wise and curious.
However, the cautious acceptance Aquila extended towards the large, thick woman was shattered by powerful wingbeats and a loud, clumsy landing. Ridges along the sea-mare’s neck stood on end, ears pinning flush with her skull as her scaled lips peeled back to reveal sharp teeth in warning to the winged predator that surely was there to eat her newborn companion.
Except it wasn’t a predator. It was a pegasus—a colt, not yet even a yearling.
A long breath pushed out of her nostrils, willing the suddenly taunt ridges of her skin to relax. It had been a long while since she had been this jumpy on land. Her long stint beneath the waves, added to her newborn Craonos she must protect, had the militant mare on edge.
A single blink was given at the bay, yellow-marked boy who grinned so widely at her, the narwhal, and the unknown horned mare. Scaled ears twitched once at the onslaught of energetic questions and excited energy that rolled off of him.
“Bonded to a balenokorn,” she, again, corrected in her throaty voice after waiting a short silence to ensure that the colt (’Iskra’) had finished speaking. “’Iskra’?” she repeated his name—liking the sound of it; it reminded her of an Akvian name, the first time something in the common tongue had reminded her of home, “I am Aquila, and this,” her bladed, aquamarine horn motioned towards the pale narwhal calf, “is Craonos.”
Though her eyes widened as she finished the words, for the calf in question was gleefully floating away from Aquila’s protective chest. Enjoying its momentary freedom, it wobbled through the air towards Iskra, its uncoordinated flight possibly causing its smooth, aquamarine-tinged skin to bump into his feathers, before it looped and flipped towards the horned mare.
A slight coo left it’s infant chest, quite at odds with the anxious terror on Aquila’s. “Where is your egg?” Was her forced question, attempting to be interested, but truly her gaze and attention was zeroed in on the aimlessly floating narwhal.
Balenokorn, comes the correction, throaty and apprehensive, but not aggressive, despite clearly displayed warning sign. Wessex maintains most of her distance, taking only a few steps forward, flicking her ears forward to better hear the spiney mare’s words. A wide smile of delight (the same she reserves for Nimue) spreads as the newborn tries to greet her. Of course, she does not blame the other for being protective of her companion. It seems like it must be almost instinctual - like protecting a child (which she has neither desire or urge to do).
Then a third joins them, a multi-colored pegasus possessing all the exuberance and joy a free-flying boy can seem to muster. Initially, she finds him a tad annoying. Like, geeze, buddy. Chill. Can’t he read a situation? When his babbling begins, however, the horned mare must allow him a little leeway - clearly he is still in that unobservant child phase. It allows her to take another couple of steps forward. Even though the boy has essentially monopolized the situation, she can still introduce herself. Plodding through the sand (ugh, always sand, she truly despises the granules and the way they manage to get into everything), she approaches with a wide berth, on the side of Aquila that is farthest from her balenokorn. Toeing the edge of the surf, the horned mare pauses at what she deems a ‘safe’ distance in order to continue to be non-threatening.
“I’m Wessex,” she says by way of introduction. “Our leader, Tiamat, has a whale companion too. No balenokorn, but a black and white one... If Craonos ever wants a friend…” Her powerful shoulders shrug, as she looks from scaled mare to winged boy and back again.
Looks like she’s the only one here without a prospective companion. Surprised at this revelation, Wessex hadn't realize she wanted one until she is faced with being empty-handed head on.
He is utterly ignorant to the very serious mares and their initial displeasure at his excitement and energy. Perhaps if pinned ears and exposed teeth had lingered he would have tucked his tail, drooped his wings, and chewed fretfully on the air, but as it was his questions all shoved forward, everyone seemed to relax and enjoy the new life.
His ears perked even higher as the fish-mare uttered a very strange word indeed. Balenokorn his mind whispered, but his tongue was less sure, carefully asking "Baaelknucon?" His face scrunches up tight, aware he said it wrong, so he mouths it again under his breath, butchering it in some new way each time. As she says his name however he abandons his attempts and brightly nods. "Hi Aquila!" he officially greets. As the whale drifts towards him, brushing playfully up against his feathers and mane, Iskra giggles, "hi Craonos!" Then, as Wessex steps forth, a chipper, "hi Wessex!"
"I see gray whales by my home sometimes," Iskra mentions after a moment of gawking in awe at Wessex when she mentions someone else has a black and white whale friend. "They are much larger," Iskra nods knowingly, "but they move so effortlessly!" He would have expected something so big to be graceless, like the larger horses he's seen plodding along- though sometimes he's watched the large warrior move in impressive ways, the whales don't strike him as fighters (not the gray ones at least).
"Safe at home," Iskra replies to the whereabouts of his egg, snapping to attention and being careful with his words, guarded. "Buried in the sands to stay warm," he adds, not wanting to appear neglectful. "I hope it will be a whale too," he beams, "just like Craonos, if I'm lucky."
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
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