"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.
Our prince was more than a tad bit grumpy because of the warm weather. In fact, the heat had increased his constant irritation into a full blown disdain. The sun above beamed down on his dirty body, leaving him sweaty and far more matted than usual. The clumps of hair which had been clinging to him for ages were far more insufferable than he could remember in his lifetime. It was like a blanket to top his already fur-covered body, leading to more sweat and more aggravation. To top it all off, the smell of our unwashed hero was more pungant and foul than usual, so much so that he could catch a whiff over his less-than-minty breath every once in a while.
This lead the earthen prince to seek shelter in the cold abandons of the north, not wanting to deal with the disgusting heat any longer. His clubbed feet drag along in the slushy snow as he makes his way past what was the beautifully icy arch, now nothing more than a soggy cave. His shuffling gait makes him a slow mover, but frankly he did not have the energy to take to the air. Instead he lumbers forth, good limbs tugging along the crippled, head turn inward toward the shoulder to allow for better sight for his unhindered eye. A mat of black, muddy air bounces on our Enki's forehead like a crown of grime.
So, here we have it. The crippled prince making his way slowly across the Steppes, winding between occasionally protruding boulders, sloshing toward the firmer, cooler snow. There was no real objective for our hero aside from getting cooler. Shame on him for being in such a foul mood when he is walking through one of the few retreats the Sun God has not yet managed to massacre with his rage. Our hero cares not for the bastard Sun or his childish tantrums, though. He has no idea about the overrun of the Order - did not even know such an idiotic cult had existed in his home. The only thing our dwarven stallion is currently occupied with is the laborious movement of one foot in front of the other - quite a feat when your legs look like the gnarled branches of a dead tree.
""
our hearts are drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see.
The long walk had cleared Gaspard's crown - for a while. Jumping at every sound, ready to pounce on whatever it was that could be lurking and ready to attack, the paranoia of the brute was growing evermore into insanity. The sanest part of him wondered how long it would be before he was overthrown by his nightmares and turned into a creature that even he did not recognise. The alarmingly mammoth yet typical appearence of the hornless, wingless creature was just a shell for the insecurity that lay beneath the surface. As he dragged his daggers across the terra firma that was slowly growing slightly cooler as he made his way into what seemed like one of the deepest parts of this land that was new to him, he took in the scenery. It wasn't so much that he was interested, he was just looking for means of occupying his busy mind.
The alabaster and charcoal brute came to a standstill next to a cave. He turned round with his huge burly neck, letting his mossy orbs scan what he had just covered. His daggers instantly felt slightly sore from realising he had crossed over the vast array of rocks that led him into this part of the lands, and the rest was covered in stunted herbage and frondescence. Gaspard wondered how uninterested he was in such a bland landscape, yet the rock formations caught his attention. They were stunningly in-your-face, a big landmark that he would surely remember. For all the dullness of the lands, he couldn't help but feel a slight comfort from the coolness that it brought. The lands he had passed through to randomly find himself here had been a torturous sun trap, bearing down on his thick fur that made him sweat and irate.
Soon his mind began to dance with the thoughts that weren't understandable. It was like he had been taken over by a different life force, slowly and surely spreading. The light from the sun in the heavens was beginning to show itself, so the alabaster brute decided to grab his feathers and take refuge inside the cave. As he walked in, he smelt a creature. Winged? He was hopeful, he would have been bitterly disappointed if it was not.
The creature that his olive gaze rested upon was an odd creature. Deformed in shape, the twisted legs of a brick coloured brute, that bore indiscrete bleached drippings. The odd growth that covered his left orb wasn't exactly handsome, it covered eyes of a seaform colouring, yet his wings that were also the colour of brick were magnificent. Whatever mishap had occured to this fellow that made him undeniably a twisted and misfortunate creature, he was still captivated by the wings. His strange obsession with wings made him think that any form of wings were better than the powerless form of himself. They were large and very much capable of flight. I want. Gaspard stood there, waiting for the beast to say something that he could reply to, for it was not necessarily easy for the painted brute to begin conversation with other creatures, except himself. The scar along his face began to ache from the water that dripped in a precarious fashion onto it. It had never truly healed, so he was able to derive some discomfort from the wound.
In acknowledgement of the winged creature, Gaspard dipped his large crown and stood in a proud manner, bearing the stature of what he thought was a king.
"What?" our prince barks, his voice breaking across the snow. His right eyes, unblocked by the growth, rolls toward the massive frame standing directly in his way. The painted stallion before him does not say anything, only nods his head. This is extremely irritating to our prince, the fact that he had stopped in his path without bothering to even utter out a weak hello.
Thrusting out a snort, our Enki gives this stallion a run down with his eye. The impressive frame this dolt had waltzed up in was large, much larger than the stunted little growth of a prince he stood before. Irritated, noting that this stallion was looking down on his dirty body, lavished with mud and sticks and other grime that he had accumulated over several months. Higher stature, bulkier body, straighter legs, but this stallion held himself in what felt like a false sense of regality.
Idiot. Our prince is thinking about none other than the painted fool before him, wearing a king's crown and a child's expression of wonder. It takes no time at all four our beloved to make the connection as to what he's looking at. The only unmarred part of our stubby, grimey little stallion's body - his wings. They are, for all intents and purposes, also the only clean part of his body. The soft brown feathers gleam, with only a few small specks of dirt finding their home on their rippled surfaces.
Our deformed prince tilts his head to the side, a mean expression in his small, twisted face. "What the hell do you want, pony boy?" he asks, choppy little words as he looks toward the much larger stallion in front of him. Still, there was something in the uncertainty with which he held his body that made our Enki suspect that underneath that imposing exterior was a timid little creature hiding. Fascinating, even if he was stupid.
Gaspard could sense a hostility from the deformed creature that was barely able to stand in front of him. No pity was felt when this brute had a foul attitude to match the mass. He couldn't think, for a faint voice was beginning to sound at him. He bites. He tried to push this insanity to one side, paranoia taking an icy grip on him. It would not take him yet. He could sense that the brick brute was indeed judging him, but the alabaster beast did not step down from his kingly poise. It was instinct, the stance of a warrior and the scars to prove it. As well as the mind tortured from one legendary fight.
Slowly, he began to piece together a sentence that he hoped would make sense to the stranger. "No harm, winged. Hiding from sun. Name?" It was the best he could do, a foreigner to the lands and the way he had been raised meant different tongues, even it was the same general language. His daggers clunked and thudded against the dark, dank cave whose coolness gave Gaspard some respite from the sun finally. The thick silks were slowly becoming damp from the frequent drips of water from the ceiling of the cave, but it too cooled him slightly. He came to ignore it, it was only his mind that would plague him forever.