"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.
The annoying sound is drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears, but she knows it is there--it hurts. Her left wing continues to click as she flaps hard, sweat dripping from her frantically moving body. Her hard hooves pound against the ground every couple hundred of feet. She cannot stay in flight: she keeps dropping, galloping, kicking off, gliding, and repeating. The cycle hurts, but she cannot stop. No, there will be stopping until she knows she is safe. She breathes now like a thoroughbred finishing the longest race of its training, her nostrils flaring. She is moving so fast and so hard blood starts to drip from her nose--a blood vessel has popped. Despite the pain, the mare pushes on.
The trees that come towards her come fast and hard, beyond her control. To her, it had only felt like a second ago she was pushing herself forward through a field, but now she was dodging the obstacles of a forest. Flapping hard once, twice, three times she lifts herself off the ground briefly. Gritting her teeth she pushes her athletic, sore body towards the sky. Clearing the canopy she lets temporary relief fill her, but suddenly the only thing in her eyes is fear. Her wings stop moving up and down, and she is losing altitude fast. Her head tilts towards the canopy of the trees as they come closer, closer. Gasping, the mare does the only thing she can do--tuck her wings and legs in tight.
The descent is quick and hard, but her body ricochets off of tree branches like a pinball. Smaller branches crack and fall with her, others only absorb her momentum and weight and throw her away hard. It feels like a lifetime before she finally crashes to the ground, a bruised and bloody thing. As she lays on the ground, her left side completely smashed into the forest floor, she uses the rest of her will power to keep the tears at bay. With each second passing they threaten to spill over, expose weakness to the unfamiliar forest--but, no, the mare is too stubborn for that. After a great deal of time passed, the mare finally pushes her body to stand.
She braces herself as she walks, slowly but determined. Her whole body screams, and she wonders if the predators are going to gather in hopes of feeding on her bloody carcass. Not today. She thinks arrogantly, pushes herself forward still. "Unfamiliar world--bring me winged safety." The mare finally calls out, stopping, and she rests against a massive tree at the edge of the forest.
With fire to keep us warm & tools we made from rocks and bones </style>
Gaucho had heard the cacophony of noise that Vesta's body made as she spilled through the Thresholds branches. It caught his interest, piquing his curiosity wondering what could be large enough to cause such a racket; what could be falling from the sky? Moving with a grace ill-befitting a creature of his size, Gaucho moved deeper into the threshold than he normally would. For you see, Gaucho is no prince charming, hell, he can barely hold a conversation. His is a primitive creature, understand only a few concepts, and believing in them with absolute certainty. Loyalty to his herd, to the Throat for instance, and protecting his herd-family at all costs. Other pleasures of life, friendship, greater understanding of morality, all of that goes right over his head. But he does try, in his own primitive way.
The Hanoverian stallion grunted as the mare came into view. His steely grey-blue eyes washed over her, noting her injuries, and silently respecting the fact that she was still moving. Perhaps she had a warrior's heart, as did he. As she called out, finally resting her weary form against a tree, Gaucho trotted forward. His muscular bay hide glinting in the warm Tallsun air, accenting the odd tribal markings that decorated his body: a handprint on his rump, a ray-pattern across his eye, a bone through his nose. (Ouch). Strangely, he also had a pair of antlers magically affixed to his brow, with a dream catcher woven in between. (Interesting...) For such a primal looking creature, Gaucho was actually quite handsome, with rugged features and a luxuriously long, thick, mane and tail.
As he neared, he crested his neck slightly, nostrils flaring to take in her scent. "I am Gaucho." He said finally, his voice deep and resonant, yet at the same time, the words seemed heavy and awkward as he spoke them. "You are hurt." He observed with a frown, and a grunt.
02-13-2013, 10:56 PM (This post was last modified: 02-13-2013, 10:58 PM by Vesta.)
V E S T A
I come from the mountain the crust of creation
Lowering her head, the mare closed her sea-foam colored eyes, slowing and calming her breathing. Her jaw was still closed tightly, her teeth grinding together as she used the last of her might to keep herself conscious and her pain under wraps. Her ears pinned to her sweaty neck, deafening the sound of hoof beats as another approached. Gaining as much composure as she could, Vesta finally looked up. The tail end of his words caught her off guard, and the mechanical, broken way he spoke made her want to call for some other "savior". But, he had wings, and that was what truly mattered to her, above all else.
"And you speak like a child." The mare grunted, pushing off the tree to give the impression of strength. She stood still, statuesque, for several seconds before she attempted to take a step forward. Pain rippled up from her hooves and down her compact body before she stumbled aimlessly. Finding no other solution as she toppled forward, the mare crashed into Gaucho. Pushing her weight into him she scraped her back hooves hard against the ground, trying to gain her footing. Her stubbornness faltered and, finally, she rested on him like she did the tree. She was defeated. "Please, Gaucho, tell me you are a member of a herd." As her words rolled from her tongue it was incredibly apparent how much she was struggling to stay composed. "I really need a healer." Beneath the statement she wondered if the wild looking bay even knew what a healer was. His body was littered with several scars, many too old to recognize fully, and all probably from battle.
She hoped that Gaucho would stay and help her, but inside she was screaming at herself. She felt weak, helpless and useless. The fighter inside of her screamed that she should just ask for death, surely the male would be able to bring it. His body was adorned only for battle--the antlers, the muscles, the wings--he was a fighter, she knew, or at least he had been one in the past.
With fire to keep us warm & tools we made from rocks and bones </style>
If he even understood the words she meant as an insult, he gave no show of it. His features remained emotionless and stoic as he studied her without hesitation. One might wonder if Gaucho did infact understand all of the insults that were thrown his way for being slow, or being called a neanderthal, if he might one day just snap; given his size and experience sparring, that might not be such a good thing. But if it was to happen, it would not on this day.
As she stumbled forward, her body weight collapsing into his, he raised his wings forward as if to shield and steady her, while at the same time bracing himself against her weight. Inhaling her scent, Gaucho's mind briefly wandered to mating, as it often did, as his antlered brow peered down towards her. He nodded thoughtfully as she spoke. "Dragon's Throat." He confirmed with a nod. "Throat strong. Throat have healer." He continued, leaning into her slightly, as if she was some inanimate thing he was trying to make balance on its own. "Peg-a-sus always welcome in Throat." Pausing, as if trying to decide something, he twitched his nose, causing the bone piercing it to shift. "What is your name?"
Gaucho's support relieved her, but still the warrior inside of her raged. She wanted to rip away from him, fly off, save herself. But, she knew that she could not to that. If she attempted, she knew she would die. So, she forced herself to stay pressed against the bay creature, though she clenched her jaw still. Letting her gaze wander upwards she met his eyes, only to feel incredibly uncomfortable underneath his watch. An image flashed in her head of him taking advantage of her and then leaving her to die. Fear wrapped over her heart but it did not show in her eyes. Carefully and slowly the female unfurled her wings. The action sent a wave of pain through her that almost took her to her knees, but she pressed her eyes closed tightly and moved harder into Gaucho's chest. His own wings curled around her for support and she pressed her hooves hard into the ground, attempting to stand on her own.
At the mention of his herd she lifted her head, opening her eyes fully to stare at him with an odd sort of happiness. Although his sentences were short and untrained, she understood him. He was simple, and childlike, but it was okay for right now. Had she been in her full self she would simply get frustrated and annoyed with his voice and sentence structure, and she would undoubtedly thwart him with insults and find her own way, or find someone smarter; but, today, she stayed with the primal creature. "Take me to this Throat," the mare started, averting her gaze as her words were choked off painfully. "I am Vesta."
With fire to keep us warm & tools we made from rocks and bones </style>
(Ffft. It didn't post! Sorry for the delay, I thought I replied 2 days ago.)
His emotionless gaze bore into hers as she looked up at him, appearing happy or perhaps just relieved, as he mentioned the Throat. Blinking, his mind began to slowly churn. If she was going to join the Throat...she would be his sister, and to his family he was forever loyal. Even though her memory was only a few minutes old in his mind, he would offer his support however he could. "Ves-ta" He repeated slowly, mimicking the sounds that she used to identify herself. He liked hard syllables the best, and found that saying Vesta was actually quite easy.
With a grunt, he pressed himself closer to her, moving his body alongside hers to offer support from his long barrel. Moving one of his massive black wings over top of her, he hesitantly resisted it above her back, planning to steadier her by wrapping it around her, if she would let him. He sensed a stubbornness in her, and yet, how else would they get to the Throat, if she couldn't hold herself up, or fly? "Throat not far." He mumbled, nosing towards the cliffs which would be seen in the distance.
She did not need to say anything else. He, this Gaucho, was taking her to a herd land. A herd, she suspected, was full of pegasi, mostly because of the way he spoke. He had mentioned that pegasi were always welcome in the Throat--maybe it was completely pegasi? Oh, how her heart would love that. Vesta, really, could not be defined as purely racist--she just felt bad, in a dark dark corner of her heart, for those who could not share the same love of the sky and of flight. She could not imagine a life of being chained to the ground, for it would be completely and utterly retched. Her wings were her joy, simple and true, and she would not trade any richest or power in the world for them. They were more to her than just appendages. Her wings were an extension of her wild and passionate heart.
Leaning against Gaucho she folded her wings in, letting him curl his own wing over her body. Feeling tired and defeated, she dropped her head to hang ungracefully. Her steps were slow and painful, and she hoped that Gaucho would not get impatient with her. He was such a simple creature, and when she had ever met horses with similar mannerisms as him they were often plagued with an incredibly short temper and attention span. Vesta gritted her teeth and tried to push any ill thought away, including the defeat. This was merely a hurdle she needed to cross, it was not a permanent thing. If Gaucho was true in his words, this Throat healer would fix her up and she would be flying in the sky, racing powerfully, in no time. Swallowing hard, she continued to push on at Gaucho's side, every few paces looking up to analyse his face and reactions.
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[THROAT] call me a reckless wrecking ball
![[Image: 5105621d5416e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5105621d5416e)
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