"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.
01-03-2013, 10:53 PM (This post was last modified: 01-03-2013, 10:55 PM by Archibald.)
Archibald the Dauntless
What Mandrake wanted always happened. The steel grey draft had called upon her favorite son to bring down Svetlana the Stormchaser--no longer was she a lead or a thread to their power, no longer did Mandrake need the brindle mare to do Svetlana in--Archibald was on his way to preform duties he was so used to. In a dark, morbid way the Dauntless looked forward to the familiar taste of blood in his mouth, the feeling of the slick crimson liquid as it swelled beneath his hooves and stained his impeccable white feathers. A small shudder of pleasure surged down the ebony knight's spine. Archibald felt no remorse for the duty he was about to do. Really, the chrome colored pegasus deserved to die. She was useless, and a failure. She lost leadership to Jackal, and abandoned the herd. Archibald was glad he had never gone to the Basin to recover her when she was stolen--he felt at peace while the bitch was gone.
Archibald’s tail flicked against his hind legs as he skillfully moved through the darkness of the forest, finding a clearing in the trees with an abnormally thick canopy. It seemed to stretch above him like the roof of a cave, trees extending their branches to meet one another like the fingers of long lost lovers. Tipping his nostrils to the sky Archibald took a deep breath of the thick Birdsong smell. The forest still smelled of winter rot—bodies and leaves trapped under the ice and snow to now continue their decomposition process. Rolling his shoulders he spread his weight evenly over his legs, center of balance in check. His ears swiveled atop his head, listening. His thoughts found their way back to Ktulu, wondering if she or any member of her mercenary band would be hiding in the shadows today.
“Svetlana, come forth. I demand a company with you,” The Dauntless spoke loudly, his voice booming and sending several birds from their nests or resting branches into the early morning air.
[WC: 339 | 0/2 | Setting: The Deep Forest, early morning. There is a clearing in the trees, about a twenty-foot radius, but the canopy covers the sky and the closest branch is ten feet from the ground. The earth is soft and covered in pine needles. Archibald will not be using his companion or his magic. | Two fight posts and one closing defense. | FOR PLOT CONVENIENCE, THIS WILL TAKE PLACE BEFORE JACKAL'S CHALLENGE TO ARCHIBALD AND AFTER SVETLANA'S CHALLENGE TO KRI.]
I am a weapon powerful
beyond belief
Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
Slowly, over the long Frostfall of my imprisonment, I had deteriorated; then I had gained my muscle and weight, filling out pale satin flanks and breathing easier, stomach not twisted into hunger. Things had changed since then, ever changing, always... always. My challenge to Kri has failed; I have failed. I have failed. I am worthless, unwanted, cast out- Outcast is my title now, and I have but no-one to care for. This is painful, this is hard. My wings constantly ache from my travels, my heart constantly pangs, and I want death- want its cold embrace, want its kiss of cold.
Just as I should have, I have taken to the forest deep and stripped of any light. Now only my silver coat is the only light in this deathly cold place, this place where there is no love and there is no care, where there is nothing for me, nothing. Leander I have followed, Leander I have left. Turncoat, I have become- a useless, un-loved beastial mare who crawls through the night, and as far as I'm concerned, may as well be dead. I am a glorified image of a ghost- the only thoughts that haunt me are those of past times and regrets, of the thirst to live as I once had- as a fighter and huntress, as the Stormchaser, as the queen, not this... this loner. I am a desecrated soul, I am heartless, I am corrupted into something far from the beautiful creature I once was. My coat is scorched black, no longer white, from the Sun God's minions who alighted the Thistle Meadow, and my eyes are more chaotic and vile than ever before.
When I hear my name, I am surprised. Then there is only the dark hate for anything that moves, disrupts my silence, and I attack in a flurry of black wings and cold eyes, in hate. I hardly take notice of whom I attack, though I do vaguely recognize the betrayer's form, the one who did not stop me from being cast out from my home so loved. This morning will be one filled with bloodshed.
I run out from the trees into the clearing, ears locked to skull, eyes unreadable except for fury, and I aim a bite at his withers, running to his left and my right- as I attempt to pass, I turn my hindquarters, flash a kick towards his barrel.
Archibald had not expected her arrival to be so rapid and ineloquent. Svetlana was a woman of many words, but it seemed that the downfall of her life had gripped her tightly. She came barreling towards him like some creature released from the depths of hell and Archibald set his defenses quickly, ears pinning and chin tucking as he prepared for her attack. He half expected some shriek of anger to burst forth from her jaws and rip the silence between them, her hooves falling on the earth so silently as she closed the distance between them. Her teeth, fueled by a hatred Archibald could feel in the air, aimed for his taught black skin. Lowering his center of gravity Archibald turned his front end away from the approaching Pegasus and dipped his head towards the ground.
Archibald needed her dead, and he would not dance around. He was a serious creature when it came to his duty—and he would kill her quickly. He felt no malice or cruel ideas, and would not torture her or make her beg for death—no, Archibald was a knight; knight under the command of a dark empress. She was the torturer, Archibald was merely an executioner. He was Mandrake’s guillotine, quick and lethal. Because of this, he would break her bones—inhibit her ability to move—and once she was on the ground he would crush her to death. His hefty back hooves struck out like two missiles, their target the precious knee bone that connected her large and small metacarpal to her radius.
The woman’s teeth grazed Archibald’s dock instead of his withers, and the dark warrior lashed his tail rapidly—hoping his coarse hair would strike her eyes and sting her. Her back legs, however, hit nothing but crisp Birdsong air.
[WC: 300 | 1/2]
I am a weapon powerful
beyond belief
Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
I come out of the woods, cloaked in shadow, irritable, unloving, uncaring- beyond emotions of happiness. I am coming for him, coming for him to kill him in my illusions. I watch, emotionless, beyond caring, as the massive stallion, so much bigger than me, turns, watch as he kicks those extravagantly feathered hinds at me.
Broken. Shattered. He is not Warlord for nothing, even I can recall that in my trance-like, hate-filled state. There is pain unlike anything I have felt, as his massive hooves reach my knee- my right knee, and instantly I know this is wrong. This is death being handed to me, because when I will fall, I will not get back up. I fail, I crumble, my stronghold collapsed, even as I come by him, teeth grazing his massive hindquarters. This is death, this is death, and I want to keen my regrets, I want to cry out in misery. Did I really say I wanted death? No, no, I can't have. It will kill me. Of course it will! Fool, fool! I collapse, I crumble, I am the fortress falling to flames, and I hit the ground, left wing knocked askew, and there is more fiery, miserable pain. My wing must have snapped as my weight come down on it, and so I am broken not once, but twice.
The earth is cool, grass still wrapped in wet morning dew, coming to kiss me as the criminal bends his head, to be beheaded on the second. My ebony muzzle is pressed against the damp earth, my ears are still pinned tight, the world is fading in and out, hazy, from the deathly pain that entombs me.
Should my wing had not been broken, I would have escaped, flied, become coward again. But now I do not whimper, I do not cry out. Instead, I turn my head, with my left cheek pressed against the ground, and stare at him. Will he really kill me?
So there I lie on my left flank, one wing bent at an awkward angle, and shards of pale bone erupted from my knee lying around me. I am covered in blood pouring from my wounded leg and broken wing.
I will get no mercy.
WC: 374 Summary: Basically falls over, right knee broken, left wing broken in fall, is lying on left flank.
Crack. He was successful, his kick shattered her knee. The familiar sound of bones crunching under his power made his legs quiver and his chest to swell. Tossing his head and letting his hooves fall back to the ground the Dauntless turned, taking his time. His golden eyes watched as she stumbled and fell, wing crushed underneath her. The crunching of many more bones echoed through the clearing, and Archibald took three steps forward.
Standing squarely over her he locked his eyes on hers, a dark gleam as he slowly let his lips curl into a smirk. She was weak and always had been. “Svetlana, I feel that you will not be chasing storms any time soon.” Blood poured from her body and pooled around her, the intoxicating scent rolling into Archibald’s nostrils. Memories flooded him, and his most recent murder still rung clear. Roanne, once a herd leader with so much power, fell under his hooves with the same look of defeat cracking his face. Archibald lowered his head to whisper into the broken female’s ear, “She had your death planned for months, and chose me to bring it. Evers, oh I know your feelings are so great for the blue, was almost chosen. We did not save you—we wanted you to die there—but this is so much more pleasing.” Archibald hissed the word pleasing, half expected Svetlana to try and bite his face or spit on him. Scoffing, the Chief lifted his head to its rightful place.
Archibald lifted one hoof, eyes still watching the agony that ripped through Svetlana’s own soul mirrors, and he slowly set the massive weapon above her jugular. When the black warrior had his hoof not but two inches from the warm flesh of Svetlana he slammed it down with all of his force. He wanted to hear her take in her last breath and sputter, to see blood rolling from her jaws.
Rolling his weight back, Archibald lifted his body into a high rear, not caring about anything else except the Pegasus mare’s demise. With a malicious glint in his eye, Archibald slammed his body back towards the ground, hooves rolling out like daggers set to demolish poor Svetlana’s head.
[WC: 370 | 2/2 | Archibald slams one hoof down on her jugular and then raises into a rear and comes down with hooves rolling to scrape and bash in her face/head.]
I am a weapon powerful
beyond belief
Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
The earth seemed to tremble as the giant approached, each step making the earth tremble, quiver, until his words come dark and unloving. I resist the urge to cry, to fly and run, quell it, for I know I will get nowhere. I will not be chasing storms anytime soon, I know, except in the black world where the Reaper walks and the fallen soldiers come, where the old stallions rest and the older mares tell stories; where young ones swept away from mothers and fathers laugh and play, where games are created and where life is dark and light at the same time. This I know.
I watch the behemoth come, feel those platter-size hooves come to crush my throat, and then I see him rearing, head brushing the sky, and I see no more. For a sliver of a sliver of a split millisecond, there is pain beyond belief, pain that liquefies bones and sends blood boiling and chilling at the same time, but then it is gone in a gentle exhale, replaced by a- a something, a sensation very different. I am rising, truly a ghost, pale and waspish, floating away. There is no tunnel with white light- instead I stand under the trees black, studying the mortal body that restricted me. Now, I am not weighed down with constant defeat, my mind not thick with worries. I am free of burdens, free to seek my stallion, my Khan again.
So I turn, and spread wings that engulf the night sky, and then I take off, body a faint shimmering light, and I am among the stars, beating my way up, winging higher and higher, and yet higher, until I am suspended in peace and quiet, and then I feel Her warm breath on my cheek, see Her coming to me, and she embraces me with wings larger than anything, with eyes terrible and loving at the same time.
Before I truly slip away from this world, until the world where nothing lives and yet everything does, I feel Khan’s kiss on my cheek and his warm feathers tracing my body, and I am truly in the void.
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