"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’d heard of the Spectral Marsh, of course, and the God who had taken up residence within it. How could she not? It seemed like every third topic was this, Kaos, an entity that had killed Helovians after deceiving them with promises of purification, and goodness. The daughter of a storyteller and an imaginative healer, Maude had been raised on tales of knights and heroes of valorous heart, and the evil entities which they struck down with their swords, staffs, magical blasts, and ancient artifacts were, as far as she had understood the stories, just like this deceitful God.
Good guys didn’t have to lie, plot, and scheme to get their way. She had also never heard a story in which the protagonist had been beaten to death by an entire country and its Gods, before resurrecting to spare the people who had slain him. That story wouldn’t even make sense, she thinks to herself, haughtily lifting her nose to stare with pale green eyes into the dark mire which stretched from the downward end of this slope, seemingly forever, out to the sea.
Trepidation fills her breast as she looks out upon it, and the pillar of which everyone spoke barely perceivable from this distance, and the eminent evil which she is sure resides there fills her whole soul with dread. The wind, cold and blustering, sweeps the muddy, putrid smell of the bog across her face, and tousles back her unmanageable amount of cream hair in swirling ringlets, and, with a last deep breath, she swallows down her fear (and wrinkles her nose at the smell). Bundling her cloak up and tying it across her back, so as to keep it clean, the yearling boldly steps down the hillock, and sinks ankle deep into the mud.
Soon, however, it’s knee deep, and cold, and Maude is peering back over her shoulder at sane land with an expression that personifies regret. The pillar is still many yards away, and her hair is already ruined, but it’s the shivering that is really starting to get to her. Pulling towards a small grove of stunted, gnarl-branched trees, she huddles alongside their waterlogged sides, shielding herself from the wind, and wondering why she’d ever thought such a foolish idea as wandering in this black realm was wise.
And I have begun to haunt the Marsh like the ghosts that cling to the shadows, disturbed blue figures hunching over, curling up within themselves as they come to recognize the living - they do not hide, but do not enter my space either, hovering somewhere on the edge of my peripheral like hesitant children, all piled on top of one another, stumbling and tripping as they collide. I think they know I see them, that the cool spaces they create can be detected by my bared skin, caught standing out against brisk Orangemoon air with their disfigured features lingering over the surface of the water, as though they might be trying to catch their reflections in it. I look down at the frigid water near my hooves, as though somehow I'll catch a glimpse of something in the cold blue mass that swirls before me - all I see is blues, greens and purples swirling together and leaving me frustrated, because there is no indication of my reflection in the water, no hollow sockets gazing back at me from the depths as I'd hoped.
A ways away, my ears pick up the splashing of a body in the water, the silent slipping of a lost soul into the callous grasp of the Marsh - I turn my head in the direction of which it came, but I am not yet close enough to catch sight of what (or who) it was taking an unfortunate swim. I proceed forward, picking my way over tangled roots and gnarled branches, over the uneven path that twists and winds until I am finally seeing a cooling figure, almost wondering if it is a ghost with the way the typical reds of the living are draining, changing - I get closer still, intrigued as to why they so willingly waded through the water, kicking up a stench that made my nose wrinkle. It may not linger as much as it did when momma had lived here in her youth, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant smell when I did catch whiffs of it. She has offered stories of her youth, speaking wistfully of a time she longs for, when she belonged somewhere, had a purpose. I think that listening to her only made my heart ache more, and I left her to feel sappy and nostalgic, to melt through the seams of her shaky form and turn into a thick, sobbing mess at the center of a clearing.
I witness the persistence of the girl, watching her trudge through the slush with determination and foolishness oozes off of her small figure, taking the time to walk forward until I too was standing in the water. My body shudders at the touch of near freezing temperatures, sloshing my way closer with my brows twitching in annoyance. "It's not good to wander here alone," I tell her quietly, as if somehow I would change her mind about heading the way she was - towards it, the looming pillar that stirred with ancient power, with something breathtaking and terrifying, something that the kísértet dared not to interfere with, always edging close to the clearing but never entering the space. I have asked them why, but never receive an answer, it seems that I was never meant to speak to the dead - or they have all taken an oath of silence, or simply cannot communicate with the living at all. Probably the latter.
She trots along at a happy pace, humming a song and clapping her wings to her sides to keep the beat. Her fearlessness, though guised beneath the natural curiosity of youth, could easily be interpreted as naivete and stupidity, so as she flutters into the marsh like a songbird, onlookers would be more than welcome to shake their heads and muse that it's a shame such a pretty girl would never make it to adulthood.
The muck sucks at her hooves as she moves deeper into the deadlands, but she is nonplussed by the mud that splatters her legs, nor does she allow the putrid smell to toss her stomach. It's not everyday you find such a prime mudhole to stomp around in, so she would certainly find time to enjoy it. Besides, she was already taking on an adorable winter fluff, and when one feels adorable, one is happy.
Golden eyes, surprisingly sunny within the grey and white of her face, nearly miss the golden lass, buried from the chill under her cloak, pressing towards the trees as if they would shield her from the cold. She stops, head tipping to the side, staring at the big black whateverthatis. She's seen some weird stuff since arriving here, but seeing something so out if place captures her attention. It's a feminine voice that distracts her attention, and she turns her head, sheltered within her own place among the towering logs (these were hardly trees, considering how dead everything looked), and sees a unique pair of older fillies. One has wings, and the other, antlers. How lucky am I, She thinks to herself, that I have both!
"Well," the dappled girl interrupts, keeping her voice hushed to match the other girl's tone, "We're not really alone, if we're all here." She punctuates her comment with a wink, though she can't help but begin to feel uneasy with the commentary. It almost sounds like a warning. Was she even allowed here?
She moves forward, now with slightly more caution than her previous gait held, towards the pair of others. She's careful as she wades through the shallow murky waters, trying to avoid a comical fall now that she's in the view of company. Coming to a stop beside them, she allows her eyes to fall, once again, upon the pillar. "Do you guys know what that thing is? I've never been here before. It's kinda spooky." She smiles at the last word, saying it with a playful hushed voice. There was something cool about this place. But more than that, there were people here.
She could finally make some friends. It was about time, too, she was about ready to die from boredom if she had to spend another minute alone without anyone her age.
@Maude +
I'll add a table later! Just wanted to get something up!
Please tag Akeli in all posts || Permission for magic and force at all times, except in cases of permanent injury or death.