"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.
They certainly sound like something, the other mare says, and Weaver can’t help but laugh at that. It’s an amused, head thrown back kind of laugh, careless and wild as she always is. “Yea, something sounds about right.” She nods her head in the direction of the Basin as she replies, setting off with a glance back to make sure the girl was following. The trees of the Threshold clear, and she looks to the other Pegasus. “We can walk if you want a grand tour, or we can fly and I can point out the tiny specks of landmarks.”
She waits for Eve to answer, happy to do whatever she picks. “I should probably add the Basin has a weird history with Pegasi. They are cool now, but you might hear stories.” It seems only fair to warn the girl. Beloved had sort of warned Weaver, but it’d mostly been in laughs and half-sentences. Rikyn had been the one to give her the full story, one that she was not allowed to repeat. So she keeps shut on that, instead walking/flying as Eve wants, pointing out landmarks and asking questions along the way.
If they are flying, Weaver lands before the entrance to the Basin. It’s a thing she’s just gotten used to, walking into the Basin. Some of it stems from the fact she’s still basically the only Pegasus here (thankfully that might change), and some of it stems from the fact it’s really hard to fly over a mountain. Timing the winds just right is a game, and one she’s not overly good at. It’s distinctly cooler up here than the Threshold, ice already forming in some places. It’d be a hell of a winter, and she was thankful for the cape that Vertigo had made her. Not that she was wearing it right now, but she’d had to go get it soon. It was currently tucked away in the cave she’d finally made home.
She leads Eve further into the Basin, heading toward the lake since it’s central in the herd. They’d need to find someone to accept the girl. “What do you think?” she asks. It’s a shame it’s not night yet, but soon, the sky would be filled with dancing ribbons of light. That, at least, was a thing worth staying for.
Eve is a bit surprised when Weaver bursts into laughter; she didn’t pin her as the serious type, exactly, but somehow the sound still feels unexpected, unprompted, although she knows that it has to have been caused by her comment. Eve finds that she likes the sound of her laughter, though, and smiles cheerfully in turn. She prances up to follow the woman as she begins to walk in, presumably, the direction of the Basin, ears twitching to catch her words as she asks if the girl would prefer to walk or fly to the Basin. She glances back at her wings for a fraction of a second, then looks back at Weaver. “Flying’s fine,” She says, a bit reluctantly. A large part of Eve does want the “grand tour,” as she’d put it, but an even larger part of her is desperate to stretch her cramped wings. She consoles herself in the knowledge that she’d have plenty of time to explore in the future. Weaver adds that the Basin has a “weird history” with Pegasi, but she doesn’t seem keen to elaborate on what that weird history is – she supposes that it doesn’t really matter. The past is in the past, and all. (She ignores that her mother always said the same thing about her father, and his specter seemed to haunt her all the time.) She spreads her wings and follows just behind Weaver, the ground falling away beneath her hooves. Weaver points out various landmarks along the way, and Eve listens intently; she swallows down approximately half a million questions in the interest in taking her surroundings in, rather than dissecting them. There would be time for that later.
The ground grows rocky and dry, and the air becomes frigid. Eve finds herself shivering beneath her thin coat, cognizant for the first time of the fact that both of her parents come from deserts – she doesn’t find the sensation unpleasant yet, instead reveling in its newness, but she imagines that it will start to wear on her eventually. Weaver lands, and she follows just behind her, landing in the slush of ice and snow just a bit awkwardly. It isn’t quite like solid ground. She marvels in her surroundings, taking in the full expanse of the mountains, and follows Weaver into the Basin in a somewhat uncharacteristic silence. Weaver asks her what she thinks of the Basin, and she manages to tear her eyes from the landscape to look back at the other mare, a slightly giddy, awed grin stretching across her lips. “It’s magnificent,” She says eagerly, "More magnificent than I could have ever imagined." Granted, with her limited scope of experience, it wasn't that difficult to amaze Eve, but she imagined that she'd find the Basin beautiful even if she were a more seasoned traveler.
Two pairs of wings stand in the shadow of the stone arch, today, and I make my way towards them, growing more used to my routines being perforated by social niceties the more that I have to do so. Besides, as I was coming to discover, coming to each gathering at the border left me that much more aware of who lived here with me, which, I suppose, was important for me to know, considering Tiamat and I are ultimately in charge of telling them what to do. After a time, however, the names and faces were starting to sort of blur into one, with those that I saw time and time again moving to prominence, their names easily pulled from the growing collection of too many.
"Corporal Weaver," is one such name easily recalled, and I greet her with a smile as my trot comes to a stop before she and the new arrival; Duir slips in on my right side, his green eyes meeting the strange mare with wary curiosity, and Weaver with the cheer he greets most of those here, at home, "who is this?"
I ask next, looking at the pretty brindle mare as I do, gold eyes running over her with more than my usual “does the new person have mange” glance. She is a woman, after all, albeit young, and though my gaze isn’t lecherous, per say, I do notice that she’s as delicate as a flower, from size to build, and immediately deduce that, well, she’s not gonna be a soldier, unless she is much meaner than appearance alone lets on...
"I am Lord Rikyn, and this is Duir," I greet with a characteristic smile, gesturing to my buck with my deep, cocoa muzzle before I add, "I hope you haven’t been waiting long?"
She’s neither relieved or disappointed to fly. Weaver’s never really cared what method she’s traveled by. Flying is faster, so she flies to get from point A to point B when the journey doesn’t matter. But walking and running are great ways to stay in shape, so she never minds a good trek across Helovia if her company can’t (or doesn’t want) to fly. She’d like to think that when the girl chooses to fly it’s because she’s eager to see the Basin, though Weaver has absolutely no idea if this is true or not. She’ll stick to the assumption though, pleased with the idea of someone being eager to see and hopefully live in the Basin. They had a good, motley crew there, but they could definitely use a few more eager beavers’ running around.
The girl doesn’t comment on the pegasi thing, and Weaver is sort of grateful. There was some stuff she could say that wouldn’t infringe on her confidentiality agreement with Rikyn. Not that that agreement extended beyond Erebos, really, but once secrets got out, they were hard to contain. Weaver wasn’t stupid, and she knew the stories were better kept to herself. Let Rikyn spread them, should he choose, or someone else. She wouldn’t be the source that sprung the leak that eventually might get back to their General. Though Weaver could hold her own in a fight, she didn’t doubt that Rikyn would weak some havoc on her in revenge.
Weaver’s taken for granted how used to the slush and ice she’d become, landing with an ease that only comes with practice. Fighting in this stuff was a different story, and it never did get easier to deal with that underfoot when she was also trying to beat the crap out of her fellow herd mates for practice. Eve does well enough, and Weaver lets her take in the sight, happy to answer questions or stay silent as the girl wants. Sometimes a bit of quiet time to enjoy it all is enough.
The silence doesn’t last as Rikyn comes to join them, her title on his lips. It’s rare she actually hears her title, given that it’s one of little consequence. “This is Eve,” she says to Rikyn, nodding at the girl with a slight smile. He introduces himself politely, and Weaver’s amber eyes sparkle mischeviously. “Waiting? What, is my company so terrible it counts as waiting?” Her tone is entirely playful, and it’s clear enough she doesn’t mean it. Weaver just can’t help herself sometimes. Actually, she can’t help herself almost always, not just sometimes.
Weaver doesn’t say anything to Eve, leaving her in a silence that she is grateful for as she takes in her surroundings. The silence is broken relatively quickly, however, by the approach of two other figures – a stallion and a deer-like creature that she assumes is a companion to him, like Raven to Weaver or Zafir to Astarot. He greets Weaver as a corporal, clearing up any questions Eve might have had about her position, then turns his gaze to her. He asks who she is, and Weaver answers for her; she dips her head in a semblance of a nod as he introduces himself as Rikyn and the deer-like creature as Duir. He’d introduced himself as Lord, and Lord is a noble title, so Eve assumes that he’s probably someone important. “A pleasure to meet both of you,” She replies, a bit unsure of what to say regardless of the pleasant smile that remains plastered across her lips.
Her eyes trail across his frame quickly but meticulously; the intensity of her gaze could probably be taken in a number of ways, but Eve’s curiosity is practically scientific. She regards Rikyn much the same way that a biology student stares down a specimen they are in the middle of dissecting, precise and sharp as a carving knife. He is a blend of crisp gold and dark, mottled brown that she almost mistakes for black in her first glimpses of his coat; there is a sharp precision to his gleaming, golden markings that feels almost artificial by comparison to the untamed, earthy tones of the rest of him. He’s a bit shaggy, probably because it’s autumn, or whatever this land’s version of autumn is, and she finds herself thinking that she’ll probably envy his thicker coat sooner or later, although she can’t say the same of his beard. Seemingly satisfied with her observations, she eyes Duir. His coloration matches Rikyn, save the vines dangling from his great antlers, but the gold that crisscrosses his frame resembles strikes of lightning. Despite the brilliant glint of his golden markings, she finds her gaze attracted to the pretty, bright green of his eyes – it reminds her of spring in the wildwood. She can’t shake the image of the Horned God from her mind when she looks at him, though she imagines that it’s probably just the antlers.
Weaver’s teasing quip provokes a small giggle from the mare, though she adds, “I don’t think we’ve been here very long at all, no...but I’m not sure I’d notice if we had.” She doesn’t think that she’d mind to spend a very long time exploring every nook and cranny of this new place, so she’s not sure that she’d notice if they had been waiting for very long. That being said, Eve isn’t really sure what constitutes long – linear time is going to take some getting used to. She still hasn’t really processed that she is mortal now, capable of aging and dying, and she’s certainly not focused on processing it now.
While Eve, as Weaver introduces her giggles at the hybrid mare’s joke, I just grin, mostly because, well, we had taken a bath together, after all, and all it had amounted to was a conversation about dead people. While it didn’t necessarily make her boring, it didn’t make her wildly fascinating, either, like I now found Mordecai, who’d made it clear our relationship would be more than innocuous flirting within days. Somehow, I doubted that Weaver was interested in those sort of activities.
Not that I would shut her down if she so desired to engage in them, of course.
The new arrival to the herd is one of those nice girls, I almost immediately pick up on, from her demeanor, mostly, but also the way she answers. She doesn’t join in with the Corporal’s playful words, instead choosing to directly answer the question.
"Ah, see Weaver, Eve says you aren’t boring after all," I playfully grin and shoot Weaver a wink, before looking back at the new arrival with a bit more seriousness (I was, after all, garnering a reputation as a Brat King despite my best efforts to do the job well), "it’s nice to meet you too, though."
Er… what now? I think to myself, also loathing the awkward silence. Ask her what she know to do, idiot, Duir answers. Not entirely sure if Eve knows I have an arrogant deer talking in my head, just like Weaver is, at some point, due to have Raven clamoring in hers, if she doesn’t already, I try my best to not react to Duir’s usual remarks upon my struggles. I imagine a man suddenly shouting at his companion can be quite off putting.
Gods, how I miss the days when he’d been spotted and limited to physical noise…
"You don’t have to decide today, but we all sort of pitch in together, around here, and pick jobs. You may have heard me call Weaver a Corporal – she is second in command to the General, Erebos, and a soldier," I explain, with a nod, "though, don’t take me the wrong way, miss Eve, but you don’t strike me as a soldier. That would leave history and lore keeping beneath the herd’s summoner, herbal healing, well unless you have magic for it, of course… er, crafting and weaving, or stealth work."
Weaver’s glad to find the girl has a sense of humor, catching on to the quip with a giggle and playing along in her own way. Time flies, really, gone faster than she can blink an eye sometimes. There’s already plenty to do, and when there isn’t something to do, she’s fills her fake spare time with training or exploring. There’s still quite a lot Weaver doesn’t know about Helovia, so she spends what little time she can learning bits and pieces. Rikyn was pretty solid company for teaching her tidbits, though she still owed him a story of her own sometime. Probably the four horsemen, because that was one of the more exciting parts of her life, though her entire life has been one type of trouble after another. She’d say she attracted it, but really, she probably caused it just as much as she actually attracted it.
Rikyn seemed like amused, and it’s a shame she can’t read his mind. That would be a delicious conversation really, if she could, though in some ways he’s not wrong. Weaver enjoys flirting, enjoys teasing, enjoys toying with the boys around her. She is also attracted to power – there’s something to be said for titles and bloodlines, after all – and Rikyn is certainly on the list of doable friends. The thing that stops her is the repercussions of that decision. The world is not ready for little Weaver’s running around.
“Are you insinuating everyone else thinks I’m boring? Because I’m fascinating, Lord Rikyn,” she says, emphasizing his title for effect. What effect, exactly, she couldn’t say, but it seems like a good idea. She lets it drop there though as he turns his attention to Eve, because really, this is about Eve and getting her to stay put in the Basin and all that. Weaver’s eyes drift back to the other mare, who was also fascinating, from what little Weaver knew about her. She came from a very different sort of world.
Rikyn dives into jobs, and there’s really not much for Weaver to add. “If you have questions about any of them, we can try to answer, or point you in the direction of those that hold those jobs now,” she offers, figuring that’s the most she can do at this point, having no idea what Eve is interested in. Eve doesn’t necessarily look like a solider, as Rikyn had pointed out, but neither does Weaver, so she figures anything is possible. They could always use more savage amazons, after all.