"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.
SOMETIMES YOU'VE GOT TO LOSE EVERYTHING
TO FIND OUT THAT YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN RUNNING BLIND
The grullo was standing at the peek of a rocky crag, watching with dull eyes as countless bodies infiltrated the land of his mate's beloved home. There were horses of all kinds, some with horns upon their brows, some with wings at their sides, and some without anything but the hooves at their feet. The voice of the black dun was difficult to hear from where he stood, but thanks to the layout of the land, the sound reverberated, and almost instantly he wished he hadn't come to see.
The Foothills were being invaded, and the enemy's numbers were growing greater and greater with each passing second. Xanthso wanted to be down there, standing amongst those who called this great land home, ready to throw himself into the throngs of battle. But alas, he found himself at war with himself, so to speak. If he fought, would it disrupte the fragile sort of alliance he'd made with Mirage? The Edge would not be participating at all in the battle, and Xanthos found himself more upset with that fact than anything else. Had the two lands not been allied before? Did that mean they held false alliances with everyone else? The idea sickened him.
But more troublesome was the constant worry of his mate, heavy with child, and how she was taking all of this. The grullo supposed he was glad she wasn't a participant in this invasion, yet it was only because of her current state that he felt as such. Should she have been well and unhindered, there wasn't a doubt in the stallion's mind that he would be at her side right now, staring down those who wished to overthrow the Foothills.
A sudden chirp from Azel pulled Xanthos away from his thoughts, and he spared a glance to the young cub. As young as he was, the cheetah was already growing more and more in tune with his bonded's emotions every day, and he could sense the worry and dread looming over Xanthos. It worried him, too, and Azel scooted closer to the grullo, pressing his fuzzy head into the unicorn's fetlock.
Breathing a sigh, Xanthos dropped his head, giving a comforting nudge to the cub. "It is alright, Azel," he spoke, voice thick with raw emotion, "Let us hope this ends quickly." Reluctantly, the stallion lifted his head once more, casting his golden gaze to the scene laid out before him. Would Romani be upset with his decision, or would she be understanding as to his reasoning behind it all? He only wanted to assure her safety, as well as the safety of their unborn child. He breathed another ragged sigh.
There was nothing worse than the feeling of helplessness.
[ooc - This takes place during the invasion, near the border of the Foothills, within view of what is going on.]
So much activity for such an early morning. The call to battle had awoken not only the painted draft mason, but his bonded hellhound pup. After the run in with the Grey the young knight had gone to see his mother for advice, only to find out she was carrying a foal again, this time the father was well known to both. In fact Aaron was happy to say that Torasin was going to be the father or his new little brother or sister. However his mother had spoken to him about Mirage's wishes, should the Dragon's Throat give the Grey help. Without thinking the paint had stood, and moved to see if indeed the Qian's allies would fight.
It hurt him deeply to see the familiar faces of the Dragon's Throat warriors lining up along side the Grey. his choice was made. Being in the Qian, he would honor the relationship they had to the Throat and not fight. Instead the paint returned to the cave he had called home for the past few weeks to collect Alanna. The young pup had no clue what was going on, but could tell her bonded was not happy about something. Soon, the bonded pair moved out from the cave together for the last time. The painted knight knew that the Grey would take these hills today, as much as he did not want to admit it. They were outnumbered and the Foothills simply did not have the warriors to fight back. It was touching however to see an outcast lining up with those that were going to fight for the Foothills.
It was as the pair headed for the World's Edge that he spotted another pair. They sat near the boarder to the Foothills, but as Aaron got closer he quickly picked up the scent of World's Edge. The paint nodded to the grullo before speaking. "Come to see the Grey take over the Foothills?" He spoke with a sad tone to his voice. Not only did he lose his home today, but two mares he once counted as friends. Perhaps that was why he did not make it widely known his current plans. The knight did not want Phi or Ktulu to come to try and explain. It was done and he was losing his home.
"something to say"
✝
In Nomine Patris Et Filii
Et Spiritus Sancti
✝
Please Tag Aaron in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Aaron at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
02-26-2013, 07:00 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2013, 07:01 PM by Mirage.)
Times were tense.
Invasion was thick in the air. The very atmosphere vibrated with it, the quivering breezes hummed with it, the shadows danced it's story across the land.
Akaith had not seen the brothers of shadow and flame for several days now. It was a regular occurrence for her to scout through the Foothills looking for them, passing on the love of their sisters, carrying any messages they might have for their sister back to her. Given the state of the lands, it raised Mirage's suspicions immediately. She knew of their recent yearning to come home, but she had pleaded that they stay where they were, if only to continue showing the that the Qian supported the Foothills, even if the Foothills did not seem to want to support themselves.
Draped in her draconic form, the WeyrLeader flew above where her herdmate walked towards the borders of the hilly land, her predatory gaze drinking the sea of colour and activity below her. With sadness pulling upon the bond she saw through her eyes and Akaith's, the line of soldiers that approached the borders, the small number of souls who stood against them. She flew far enough away that her presence should not cause a disturbance - for she knew that she had allies fighting on both sides of this argument tonight. This invasion would be the first that she would not participate in., the first that she had ordered the Qian to stay away from.
Which was why the capture of her brothers troubled her all the more. She supposed that an uneducated opponent would want to keep the formidable beasts out of the way, unknowing of the true alliances of the knights of darkness and fire. Madyrn and Maskan would have wanted to fight, yes, but they would have respected their sister's wishes to not create tension between an alliance older than her time at Helovia, that sisterly kinship she held with Kri. Even now, Mirage saw the chocolate leader bring her warriors to the fray, and she had to respect why she did so.
It pained her to see the Foothills in such a seemingly hopeless position. Her great, hulking mass landed near the two stallions, her keen ears hearing the last of Aaron's words. He was resigned already, choosing not to fight even though she could tell he sorely wanted to. She wondered if he had known about her brother's feelings of the Foothills sooner, whether he would have left the Edge at all? It didn't matter now.
"It pains me to see this happen." The WeyrLeader said simply, her eyes travelling from her herdmates to the activity of battle and back again. Akaith warbled sadly above her, before landing delicately upon one of her neck spikes. "Should the Foothills fall, they are welcome to find comfort and shelter in the Edge. Akaith, be sure to alert Kiba and Torasin that his services as medic may be required. We cannot intervene here and now, but we can be prepared for the aftermath of this, no matter the outcome." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, particularly when addressing her dragon, who used the unique psychic communication to attempt to pass the message along.
It was a sad day, as the DragonHeart watched mutual friends become enemies.
02-27-2013, 10:44 PM (This post was last modified: 03-03-2013, 07:26 PM by Nadira.)
it has come to pass...
(I'M SOOOOOOOO sorry about the long post)
Nadira’s sensitivity level was acute to auras that permeated amid her and others she was in contact with. She knew her answer was not something Tharos had been expecting in reply, but wasn’t that precisely what should have been expected? Shaking her visage, it was now the stallion’s turn to pause for a moment and turn to look at her, before responding. Delicately scooped ears listened intently to his words as her glaciers took him in and worked on memorizing his contours. His story pretty much aligned with her’s, generally speaking, in a weird sort of way. Bouncing the question back at her, they continued on their journey back home. Little did she know what she would be facing. She took a moment to decide how she would tell her tale. Getting too specific sometimes was too confusing, so keeping it simple would be more ample enough.
“I come from another world. Luster. A world built and created for us unicorns when Earth was losing her magic. When humans invaded and drove us out. I was young, and don’t remember much. My memory was lost, for protection purposes, when I crossed the threshold from Luster to Earth. I grew up in human form for twenty years. Lived in a boarding school and then fled when I was eight, or so they had told me I was eight. I had fears and suspicions I was being used, so the forest became my home. Everyday I fought to breathe another day, fleeing my assassins and outsmarting them for as long as I could. Then, a season or two ago, I happened to stumble through a portal that landed me here, evading a hunt that nearly could have ended my life.”
It was strange, almost surreal. She had never told anyone, though no one had ever asked since she had been here. But it was as if she had lived another life, and now she was living an incarnated version of herself. But the nightmares reminded her of the horror and terror she had faced only months before. The stillness was nice as they moved through the forest, closing the distance between them and the borders of the Foothills. It was awkward, as Tharos’s advances on her were evident as day. His glances were heavy and weighed on her, but she kept her composure. It was surprising that even the little education she received through the school and observation of the adults, that she was able to pick up on lady-like mannerisms. But him breaking the silence was more terrifying than she could have imagined, or prepared herself for.
A mate? Her… gorgeous? What was with his comments. Either he had a difficult time with proper inquiries, or he was just a straight southern steed who couldn’t give a rat’s ass how his questions were worded. Her normal perky auds flattened against her skull, lacing themselves beneath her milky silks. This particular question wasn’t even on her list of questions she would answer, too many commitments and unknowns to leave one shaky and uncertain. “Non, monsieur, and I do not wish it.” She left it at that. Her tone was clipped, but still had a chime–like ring, like crystal. Her French was broken, but it had been useful to her not long ago. The thoughts of what had happened on Earth, with Osiris, and now Tharos… Her thoughts landed on human hands, rubbing gently over her swelling belly… and then black. The past was better left where it belonged. Some things were too hard to revisit, even if it was healthy to talk about it, as she had heard other people say about getting over issues.
The sight of the Foothills couldn’t have come at a better time, and a huge flood, that would have otherwise devoured her, gave her relief. Inhaling became attainable, but only for a moment, before her gaze rested on the invasion and her heart sank. So this is what is had come down to. She knew it would have only been a matter of time, but so soon? She wished her mentor Willow was with her. To help her heal the soldiers that would obviously need it after the bloody battle. And then she spotted him, Xan. Romani’s mate and a half smile crossed her features, for Aaron was with him too. Not too far off, observing the chaos and blood shed spilled on the lush greens of the meadow below them. Another was present, next to the steeds, but Nadira couldn’t place the exquisite looking dragon. The milky essence took the opportune time to pick up her gait, looking back to make sure Tharos was still following her, and then continued to make her way over to the three body’s.
Nadira and Tharos arrived just as the female dragon's last comment was made. Fragile ears pricked at the sound of Torasin’s name, for she had only just met the doctor a short time ago with Willow. They would need all the help they could get. This would be one bloodied mess that no one would care to remember. Nadira was highly considering leaving the Foothills after the invasion, to where she was still undecided. But one thing was certain; she was not ready to settle down and continued to desire the life of a gypsy.
“Xanthos, Aaron, I am glad for your presence. This is Tharos, he… ahhh, well he was hoping to call the Foothills his home. Kimber intercepted him, he followed me back here.” She wished not to go head long into explanations, as she would surely turn fire engine red from embarrassment.
She then turned her exquisitely sculpted bodice to the dragon, who spoke with such clarity and familiarity of the region's Edge, dipping her mask in greeting. Letting her lips part, she introduced herself to the mare. “I am Nadira. I met Torasin with Willow, while we traveled to the Edge. It would be kind of him to offer his help, if that would not be asking too much, as Willow has been taking captive, and I am afraid I am not well enough versed to handle this all on my own.” She took a slight moment to gesture toward Tharos and then introduced him as well. “And this is Tharos.”
She then turned a sad glance to her homeland, for the time being and casually motioned to the battlefield and sent her wavering announcement in Tharos’s direction. “And this… Tharos, is the Foothills. Now officially under attack, and for what?” Her tone was filled with little emotion, but still, sadness for what she knew to come was something she could not evade all together.
Thoughts || Normal Post || "Previous Speech" || "I am talking."
Her tone was clipped and Tharos wondered if his question had offended her. He pricked his mismatched ears at her and tilted his head about to ask her if he had and apologize. Before he could get a word in, they broke free of the trees and she trotted ahead of him. The Grullo picked up his pace to follow her, deciding to keep a better restraint on himself lest he offend her again and push her away from him. He kept a respectful distance from her, his ears flickering about as he took in different noises around them, but they pricked forwards again as he noticed the sound of a battle taking place up ahead.
They approached a small group of horses and as Nadira introduced him to all three of them, Tharos nodded respectfully to each of them. "Greetin' sirs and ma'am." He said as he flicked his white tail and looked down at the gathering forces. He listened to Nadira talk and then turned his head to look at Aaron. "I take it hero's are hard ter come by in them Foothills, or are you just a traiter on ta join a new herd like a dog with it's tail between them legs a'yers?" He asked, his tone displeased as he realized Aaron and Nadira smelled the same and Xanthos and the other smelled like some other land. Tharos wondered if the Foothills herd was in such desperate straights that the herd members were just flying the coop at the first sign of trouble. That was no way for a herd to live.
He looked from Aaron to Nadira and then sighed. "This ain't even my home yet, but I didn' come all this way just ter run at the first sign a'trouble. They need help down there an' I'm not about ter stand here and watch 'em get torn ter pieces. It was mighty nice meetin' y'all, but if'n you'll excuse me..." Giving Nadira a longer glance, he turned and trotted down the slope to join the gathering defenders, his white tail shivering with the wind as he departed without waiting for answers to any of his comments.
370
Nadira, played by S3ilver
Mirage, played by Whit
Aaron, played by Emily
Xanthos, played by Dingo
He's kind of just passing through on his way to the battle. xD
SOMETIMES YOU'VE GOT TO LOSE EVERYTHING
TO FIND OUT THAT YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN RUNNING BLIND
It doesn't take long for others to begin showing up. First, it was the form of a painted draft, whom he recalled as Aaron. He knew little of the young warrior, but was aware that he had once been of the Edge. For a moment, he wondered, would he be returning to the land of dragons to seek refuge?
At the other stallion's question, Xanthos breathed a soft sigh, one thick with sorrow and regret. The last thing he wanted to do was simply stand there and watch everything go down, powerless to stop the overthrowing of his mate's beloved homeland, but they would need more power than the grullo could offer in order to be successful. To say the least, Xanthos was disappointed in himself for not even trying, but he didn't need more enemies at his back. After all, Ophelia had given Romani back without much trouble, and that was more important to him than anything else.
"Unfortunately," he answered, his vocie thick with emotion. The situation as a whole was tearing him up, pulling his heartstrings every which way. Breathing another ragged sigh, the grullo finally tore his gaze from the impending battle and then looked down to see the paint's canine friend. Azel, who had settled between his front hooves, peered out from his hiding spot and offered a chur, a noise that warnanted uncertainty and curiosity towards the pup.
Not a moment later were they joined by another, her presence given away by the sound of buffeting wings. Mirage's secondary form no longer startled the stallion as it had back in the Basin, and instead, he looked upon her scaly form as a source of power. It radiated from her every fiber, even in these tense and dark times. It was painfully obvious how torn each and every one of them were, watching allies fight against allies, friends pitted friends.
"I don't like it," the grullo stated simply, giving a shake of his head when golden eyes found the distant group again. One side had grown rather large in size, while the other remained pitifully small. He wondered briefly which was the leader, but none seemed to step forth to lead the others in this time of turmoil. Did they even have one? Or were they simply too chicken to step up and defend a promise to their land and the ones who called it home?
When a voice sounded behind him, addressing his and Aaron's names, Xanthos once more turned his head to gaze upon the pale form of the young unicorn mare, giving her a nod of welcome. He recognized her as well, Nadira if he remembered correctly, a member of these very hills. She carried herself with grace, but it was not the same sort in which a warrior carried himself. Like Romani and Aaron, she, too, would not be participating in this battle for her home.
Accompanying her was a painted stallion of neutral coloring, who seemed a respectful creature as he offered his own welcomings. Nadira had introduced him as Tharos. Again, Xanthos dipped his head in greeting, and was about to speak when he was suddenly cut off by him. His words had been directed straight at Aaron, but the grullo found himself unable to ward off sudden, ill feelings towards Tharos. Unwillingly, black ears tipped back, and beneath him, Azel gave a cringe as he felt Xanthos' sudden change in emotion through the bond.
"There is more at stake here than a homeland," he said thickly, watching as the other stallion turned and began to move away. He doubted that Tharos would grant them a retort, for he seemed competent in his movement towards the gathering, and Xanthos found himself unsure of how to feel. There truly was more at stake here than the Foothills; the fragile alliances held between the groups hung in the air, ready to drop and shatter should one group make the wrong move. There were lives at stake, too, as this was quickly becoming a large scale battle. Tharos may not have stringed his words together in the kindest of ways, but his will to fight for the Foothills was comendable.
As the grey draft strode away, Xanthos turned his sights on Mirage, looking more desperate than ever. "Isn't there anything we can do? This feels sickeningly wrong, standing here and watching our allies fight one another."
It seemed like only a moment before Mirage the DragonHeart landed near them. It was the first time Aaron had seen his leader in her dragon form, and he was in awe. Brown eyes looked over the other bonded paired before speaking again. "I should be down there... Helping my home... The Grey and Throat outnumber those of the Foothills... Jackal did not come. The Foothills will fall today." The bitterness in his tone was clear, and Alanna whined looking to Akaith. She had never seen the golden dragoness before, but could tell her bonded held the draconic bonded pair in high regard. He spoke nothing of the healers of the Edge coming.
More arrived, the unicorn Nadira along with a new herdmate. However the stallion made quick judgements that broke the already upset stallion. Him a coward? Running away from a fight? Before he could retort back the grullo that had arrived first spoke up. His words soothed the paint slightly, but not nearly enough. In anger the paint glared, just barely keeping his magic in check. Oh how he wanted to make the other paint feel like he was burning. He spoke of things he did not know. "You wouldn't know a real hero if one bopped you on the head you cocky fool. There is much more going on here than you will ever know. But by all means, go and try to play hero to a herd who's leader abandoned them." His words were like venom, showing just how angry he was. His eyes were the darkest brown possible, some might of even said they were black. Alanna growled at his side, feeling her bonded one's strong anger. One day, he would face that cocky son of a bitch in battle and show him just who the hero really could be..... If only he had been allowed to be. Eyes cut to Mirage before bitterly speaking. "There was something we could of done, but we are not allowed because it is our allies against our allies." One day he would have words with Phi. How dare she attack his home, the home of her friends and family. She too would pay.
"something to say"
✝
In Nomine Patris Et Filii
Et Spiritus Sancti
✝
Please Tag Aaron in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Aaron at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Throughout the night he'd followed his peculiar guide, Ophelia's silver dragon hopping and flapping across the snow and leading him in her cloven tracks. Each time he faltered, each time he stopped to peer over his shoulder or some other way, the dragon garbled nonsense at him and he hurried up again. In frosty silence they crossed the isthmus, and angled east. The dragon was moving faster now, and the sky was already growing paler, revealing the first hint of dawn. Irma had abandoned her hunting to fly closer, trailing after and keeping her distance. She didn't want the dragon to try and approach her again — she could do without other winged menaces close to her, thankyouverymuch, and as not even the memory of a massive Tinek setting fire to him in a dream deterred her bonded from following, she might as well tag along to keep him safe.
Once he'd worked out that they were heading towards the Foothills, Tinek sped off, presumably to join Ophelia, but the small dragon rode the winds faster than Mauja could run. He abandoned his trot for a canter, Irma giving a hoarse, raspy bark. She'd arrowed after the silver blur of a dragon, wary of whatever he was up to, and spotted the armies lining up. Where Mauja powered along on the ground he swore, hammering it with his large hooves; Ophelia had gone to war. How? Why? Irma swept in low over the ranks, picking out Ktulu, and whatever was going on, the Ice King was glad to blame that strangle-bitch. He could find out what was going on once this was over, but fact remained, the Foothills herd stood between him and the Grey, who he guessed had looped around them to avoid having the rising sun in their eyes.
A hundred yards or so behind the Foothills line, Mauja ground to a halt, breath rushing in and out of his wide nostrils. He couldn't see much, only know that he was late to the party, but Irma kept circling above, feeding him information. Ophelia, together with Kri and a bunch of strangers, were attacking the large gray draft, the one who had come with Willow to the Basin. Up on the craggy rise, a group stood watching, among them the illusion-pyromancer, Aaron, and the huge dragon, Mirage. Mauja had no desire to mingle with them, those who dirtied down the Edge with their impure hooves — his teeth gritted, and with adrenaline already in his system, his thoughts weren't particularly nice. He wasn't sure he could go within three feet of Mirage without saying something insulting to her face, and would rather avoid having Aaron set him on fire again. Instead, he pranced on the spot where he was, before taking off around the side of the clash, where he could have a better view of Ophelia. Irma continued to circle, and with his heart thundering too loudly in his chest, he paused again, letting them be for a moment but dancing upon his toes. For now, she was surrounded by allies — he almost laughed, their opponent was big, but there was no room for Mauja to barge in and help. But if things turned vile.. His eyes narrowed dangerously, the smell of war in his mind. He would not hesitate to close the distance between them and run his horn through flesh, should Ophelia be in serious danger, or outnumbered.
Tharos stopped in his tracks as he heard the insults thrown at his back and twisted his neck around to face the group over his shoulder. He flicked his white tail against his grullo hock and snorted at the group through sun-kissed nostrils. His silver eyes blinked once as he nodded once, understanding that they feel like they can't do anything because of allies fighting against allies down on the battlefield and that it was difficult to choose which side to take. "I know very well what it's like ter lose a home ter war 'cause ya don' know who ter fight with, or what tah do. I know also that in them sitooayshuns it's better ter stand with the hosses ya' sleep around rather than yer friends from across that there border. That's what herd loyalty is all about, sirs and madam. If'n a hoss ain't got that ta count on, I reckon he ain't got nothin worth livin' for.
"Better ta fight fer the land an fer them little 'uns an for them what can't rear up and fight fer themselves. I mean, frien'ships all fine and dandy, but nothin' beats the companyunship of a herd, right? If you ain't gonna stand up and figh' fer the hosses what trusted you, then who're you to call yerself a hoss?" Tharos asked, his wisdom reaching through the heavy accent of his tone. The truth was that Tharos had indeed felt something similar to what these horses were feeling. That lost emotion that came from watching horses you trusted attacking and fighting with the horses you grew up with, and not knowing what to do, or who to side with. It had been a point in Tharos's life he had never wanted to relive, and he wasn't about to let the horses below go through with it if there was anything he could do to help.
In the time that Tharos had talked, only a few horses had gathered with the will to fight and it was as Aaron had said, not one of them looked ready to charge into battle, nor did he see a leader among them, one who carried him/herself with dignity. He realized the battle was about to start for the sun had dawned and he turned to recommence his trotting. "Stay here, or come with me, the choice is yours. Be warned though, if you remain up on this hill, you will not be welcome in the foothills territory again, I can assure you that. Aside from Nadira. You stay here. A battle is no place for one as delicate in appearance as you... no offense." With that final note, he broke into a canter and was out of earshot before long.
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Nadira, played by S3ilver
Mirage, played by Whit
Aaron, played by Emily
Xanthos, played by Dingo
Not staying around for Mirage's reply. Sorry Whit. Tharos needs to go. Fast. xD
I WANT TO FEEL THE PAIN AND THE BITTER TASTE OF THE BLOOD ON MY LIPS AGAIN</style>
Paladin watched his daughters below, ears flattened against his skull as his muscles ached to join the fight. However, he stood, trapped between herd and family in the only safe location - apart from the battle. The Valiant then turned his crimson gaze to a distant hillside, and he narrowed his eyes as a shimmering light of gold hit is mind. Gold? Curious and also slightly wary of the numbers gathering there, Paladin's muscular and fit figure easily pushed forward, cresting the hill to meet Mirage, Aaron and others he barely recognized. Quietly, he listened for a moment, hearing the strange grey pinto with the blue eyes say something about fighting no matter what.
Perhaps in his youth, the Valiant would have raised arms in agreement with that statement, but with age came wisdom. The Foothills had long lived in lethargy, and his hope in the King of Thieves had failed. War was an honorable way to gain land, and he knew his daughters well enough to know that this was not the battle that had come prepared to fight; he had taught them too well for that. Did they not praise Jackal for beating in combat the former leader of the Foothills? How was this any different? The most worthy opponent whose skill and prowess in battle should win the honor of defending the herd.
A warrior at heart, the Valiant had lived by this creed from birth. The creed of war had urged him to battle Gossamer for her title when the sleepy Foothills had grown sickly, and now, outsiders had realized that the beautiful land of rolling hills was truly asleep. How could they be faulted? Paladin shook his head at the young stallion who ran into war with barely any history to back up his heart, no claim to the land or how it moved his soul. The Valiant would have fought for the Foothills had he felt claim to them, but he had given up his right to lead long ago - when he allowed the election of the Triumvirate. Paladin was still lost as to why that failed so badly - perhaps the freedom of elections was too new and innovative or perhaps he was just a fool.
Finally, and with a heavy sigh, the older warrior looked between those who had gathered, smiling kindly and Xanthos. The scars that kept his mane cropped short and skated down his shoulders and over his eyes told of his experience with war. The tome of his biography was dripping with blood. "Greetings," he murmured. "I... While I do not desire my words be taken the wrong way, and though I am but a warrior with a few years of wisdom to back my claims..." he began.
"War is tragic, but the true tragedy here is that the Foothills are still unable to hold their own. When the Foothills was weak, I challenged for leadership, and Jackal did the same. Now, after a long period of quiet, outsiders have realized this fact. As a warrior, I cannot fault them for claiming rights to a land that I have claimed through the same process." Paladin shook his head a little, a frown on his lips. Then, he furrowed his brows. Where was Jackal?
The stallion quickly turned his head, nostrils quivering as he tried to find the scent. Then, his gaze narrowed. "When the lead does not even show up on the day of battle, what hope is there?" Paladin grit his teeth together, anger rising against the Jackal. The Storyteller had put such faith in the spotted stallion, and now, he cast that faith into the dirt. He grit his teeth. "May Silverline forgive you, Jackal, for I cannot." Paladin then turned his gaze back to those who had gathered, his heart heavy.
"My apologies if my words fell on unwelcome ears, but I cannot watch the land I believed to flourish fall without the leader here to fight. This is not a war. Without a leader to rally even the smallest of numbers, this is just... a skirmish." Paladin's disappointment hung on his strong, broad shoulders before his gaze landed on a pale and dark dotted figure trotting along the sidelines. He recognized him to be the leader of the former Edge and he furrowed his brows.
Donovan's hooves led him towards the Foothills, behind the mass of the Grey. Ophelia had accepted him into Helovia and had told him of the outcast band she led with her sister, as well as informing him that Paladin resided in the Foothills. It looked, now, that his nieces would claim the Foothills as their own, or be knocked down in the process. The beast did not know what to think on the cirumstances, for he knew nothing of this land's history, or his nieces' will to take it over. With a stoic face and quite sullen eyes, Donovan split away from behind the Grey forces to watch the battle unfold from far enough away to be counted out of the army, but close enough to see the bloodshed.
He watched his nieces speak, both so different and so similar in their words, at the same time. The red-painted mutt blinked his charcoal eyes, before a familiar scent wafted into his large nostrils. Snapping his head in the direction of the voices and familiar scent, Donovan found his brother. Paladin the Valiant. Turning his heavy, muscled body in the direction of his brother and the gathered onlookers, Donovan lifted into a fluid and flashy trot, his friesian bloodlines shining. Approaching on Paladin's left flank, the dark warrior let his head lower some and his ears catch the words of the Valiant. He wondered how his brother felt with his herd and his daughters clashing like two hurricanes, and his heart silently ached for the battle his kin must be fighting inwardly. Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Donovan stopped when he stood parallel to the black dun.
It was easy to see the resemblance that was their father in them, their bodies marked in the red genes of the Crimson king. Standing squarely, Donovan surveyed the ones surrounding the brothers. A large, female dragon stood with them as well as a painted, younger stallion and two unicorns, one male one female. Donovan paid no mind to the grullo slinking away towards battle, for he knew too well that it was not going to be an easy fight, going against his family and their band. Donovan stood silently, waiting to be addressed, taking in as much information as he could about the ongoings around him.
The timeless essence of stained alabaster looked to Tharos and the rest of the group. She knew Tharos only meant well, but he could not see the mended and entwined souls that fought each other this day and so Nadira had kept her lyrics quiet. It was his comment about her dainty figure of no match to be on the battlefield, a burning defense flamed within side of her. A loud snort was emitted, shaking her façade. Though she preferred not to fight, for battle was something she had retired from, it still stirred up mixed emotions within her gut. But it faded quickly as she knew she would be the one probably restoring him back to health. A heavy sigh befell her and burdened her already weary shoulders.
More soon gathered. The first she noticed was another spotted unicorn she had crossed in the Basin, when escorting Willow. But he was too far off to inquire on his business here. Though the next kindred heart to join them was their past storyteller. He had introduced himself at the herd meeting, and she had taken quite a liking to him, maybe a father figure of sorts that she had never had. She listened carefully to what he had to say and could only nod in agreement. Granted a warrior is always a warrior, retired or not, and so she felt Tharos’s frustration, but even the best soldiers freeze at some point. It was only a natural thing.
And the last to arrive was a darker unicorn with a horn made of wood, with tiny branch spikes protruding form its base like an antler. The party that had gathered on the hill that overlooked the battlegrounds was not silent for the time being, soaking in the scenes that played out before them. Without knowing, the pure of heart moved over next to Paladin. She didn’t know why, but his towering figure gave a shadow of comfort for the smaller mare. It was a feeling that never faded; loosing something that you once thought would always be there. And even though Nadira had not quite been ready to call the Foothills her home, she still felt she owed what she could. Helping those heal who could not heal themselves. It was the least she could do.
Thoughts || Normal Post || "Previous Speech" || "I am talking."
A young mare approaches, though the WeyrLeader barely notices, aside from a silent glance as she greeted the other stallions present. The golden bodice of Mirage was fixated upon the movement that was churning into something more definitive, something more violent, more devastating than anything going on here. She did, however, acknowledge Nadira's words with a faraway curve of her scaly lips, a sad smile offered in exchange for the fact that the Foothills own healer had been stolen. It was a cruel method the Grey had used to cripple their opponent, and Mirage was not blind to their efforts to attempt to do it against the Edge as well. But the Edge had their defences on high alert all the time, with Ink and Xanthos, her sister, and her loyal Protectors all working together to protect and defend their borders.
Could she blame the Grey for what they did? Had she not done it herself before? Mirage trembled as her gaze looked back to the ocean of chaos that was the invasion taking place, shivering with an internal battle of wills - her metaphorical hands were tied, it was all she could do to ensure those she loved and cared for stayed out of harms way - or else, knowingly placed themselves in the line of fire, like the winged mare Kri.
A grey paint stallion arrived then, not hesitating to throw uneducated words at them, using a tone he clearly thought portrayed wisdom and knowledge, when really he only sounded like a warrior looking for a fight, even trying to goad these bystanders into a scuffle.
"Let him spend his energy as he pleases, do not waste your own on anger, Aaron." Mirage's voice was a quiet hum as she spoke to the familiar painted stallion, her expression guarded, her bodice giving away nothing of the trillions of different thoughts that roamed about within her. She hid it all, beneath a façade of calm relaxation, passive acceptance that these things happen, and there was little she could do to change the way a stranger felt about the situation. Even as she warned Aaron, it was not with force, not the same force that she had ordered all those loyal to her to not participate actively in this invasion.
Paladin then, arrived. It seemed they were going to gather up a large group of spectators to this battle. Mirage tilted her crown to him, recognising him as a former leader, an experienced and capable warrior, a stallion to be respected for most things - though she wondered at some of his political decisions. They didn't affect her, not directly at least, and she still respected him for what good he had done. He offered some words, pointing out the absence of the latest leader of the Foothills, a young buck whom Rishima had thought contained some brains - evidently he did not contain a heart.
Jackal the King of Thieves indeed, he had stolen the hearts of the Foothills, and just like a true thief, he was now nowhere to be seen.
A smoky sigh exhaled from her scaled muzzle as she reluctantly agreed with Paladin's words of a hopeless fight, an obvious victor. Aaron threw more scathing words around, and Mirage did not react, did not acknowledge them, for something else had drawn her attentions. What is Mauja doing here, indeed? Her golden gaze peered down at his icy form, an apprehension began curling within her, as suddenly she felt like her own borders were naked - even though they were well stocked with Protectors. Another stallion arrived, one who held similarities with Paladin - Mirage did not know him, however, and so only offered him a glance in acknowledgement, a tilt of her crown as she swivelled her attention to her herdmates in a bit of a flutter.
"We can only offer our services to our allies once the fighting has ceased. Our Healers have been informed of their impending need, and our borders will be open to any who seek shelter amongst friends." There was a mental confirmation as Akaith chirruped quietly that she had made contact with Kiba, and that Torasin was ready for what may come. While she looked at Aaron and Xanthos as she spoke, her posture included all that had gathered, wanting to make it clear that the Edge would be ready and waiting, to help where they could. "We cannot fight our allies, and while it causes me - all of us - discomfort, I cannot sanction my own forces marching to battle to fight against ones I have pledged allegiance to.. There is nothing I can do but help them rebuild afterwards, however much it kills me in the meantime."
The dragon had shifted position, her form taking on a new energy, one that showed those near her that she was preparing for flight - Mirage had become suddenly insecure in seeing Mauja nearby - what was he planning? She did not intend on lingering near him to find out, rather, she felt like her own home needed her - she would fly over the Throat too, to ensure the borders there were safe - she recalled a meeting called by the stallion Tio, declaring an effort to overthrow the magnificent desert lands.
"I cannot stay and watch."For more reasons than the obvious."I must check our borders, and that of the Throat, there are many threats roaming around Helovia at the moment, I recommend we focus upon what we can do instead of standing around here focussing upon what we cannot do." Her gaze drifted to the Foothills members that had joined them. "What I said earlier still stands; you are welcome in the Edge, I would even appreciate any help you can offer those wounded in this battle in finding our healers. I must take my leave now - I will always be near, signal to Akaith if you need me."
With a flourish of her wings, the dragon turned and moved several paces away from the group, before taking a few leaping strides and allowing her wings to fill with the wind of the Foothills, that would take her wherever her athletic form desired. Akaith flew low around the group for a loop, before following her bonded to the skies, prepared for the journey ahead that would take them across the stretches of Helovia.
[ Mirage out - if you do need her, feel free to play as if you delivered Akaith a message, as both of them will be lingering in the skies above the Foothills, with Akaith being in shouting distance. ]
The wind had changed. That morning, Tio had been trotting through the forest near the open plains of the Foothills, his train of thought along the lines of his next work, the race to power was long and arduous, and Tio knew better than to rush into things. His strides were baby steps, small but important. When the spider built her web, each thread was delicate and yet paramount to the overall design and security of the entire structure. If one thread was misplaced, the entire thing would crumble soon after.
The scent of blood and the cries of battle, then, distracted the stallion from his thought process. Stopping in his tracks, he turned his nose to the wind to look and scent what was coming from the foothills. Blood, churned earth, and sweat. The scent of war. Curious, the stallion changed his course and made to walk up the hill where a group of horses were gathered, watching a full-scale invasion on the lands below. Tio did not arrive in time to see his son there, or to watch him leave, but when he stopped, he was close to the dragon and his mane and tail swished about against his neck and the back of his legs in the wind that had picked up to bring all these scents to him. He said nothing to any of the horses gathered, and pricked his ear to catch the conversation happening around him as he watched the fight with a feel of excitement. His acid eyes raked through the ranks, finding the familiar shapes of Aryel Kri, and Ktulu among them. He noticed a mare he didn't recognize bravely facing four and while she was injured and bloody, her skill left an impression on him.
A flash of a familiar grullo coat, however, grabbed the stallion's attention from admiring the mare any further and his head jerked to see a tobiano draft mix facing off with three and fighting valiantly, but without any skill to speak of. If anything had ever shocked Tio in his life, it was the sight of his son fighting in a battle. He had thought his offspring had died near a decade ago. To see the living example of Gabrielle here, not only living, but thriving as he fought a losing battle, left the dunskin dumbfounded. To be honest, Tio did not know what to feel, relief, or fear? Here Tharos was, appearing like a ghost of his past. On the one hand, he was glad to know that his romantic efforts with Gabrielle had not been a dead end, on the other hand, Tharos being here was a loose-end he had not counted on. As of right ow, no one but Tharos would know everything there was to know about him. He was a useful ally, and a dangerous flaw to his plan that he had not counted on at all, should Tharos decide to give away information on his father.
This... is not good. Thought Tio as the shock on his face faded within a second of it's being there and he turned a calm eye on the group gathered. They all might be enemies at the moment, but he had no intention of being anything but civil at the moment. He had his rage under a steel lock and key. There it would stay until someone provoked him. He did not recognize any of their faces, and that was a good thing. It meant that none of them would know him, unless they'd seen him before without his knowledge.
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open thread
I'm just popping in on this thread so I can say he's watching the fight too. If anyone wants to interact with him, that's their choice. <3
I WANT TO FEEL THE PAIN AND THE BITTER TASTE OF THE BLOOD ON MY LIPS AGAIN</style>
Paladin could not believed his eyes when he saw the taller, darker form so similar to his father crest the hill. Crimson eyes stared into almost pupiless black ones in disbelief, remembering the last time he Donovan on the Tides. His charcoal and crimson brother had fought at his side against the invading racists and helped protect his daughters from the Sect leader, Nyra, and most importantly, Donovan had escaped the warring ways of his father with a decent head on his shoulders. Paladin had thought him dead, but he was glad that he wrong. A brotherly grin lifted his lips, and he boldly trotted to his massive sibling. Vega, his dam, had been a ruthless and massive mare, but Paladin knew little of his own dam. Still, she must have been slender to give rise to his smaller and more lithe stature.
"Brother..." he trailed, arriving close but offering no signs of affection. Simply the word of family would be enough offering of greeting and love between the two warriors. Brother was the recognition of a bond greater than two souls on the battlefield; it was the tie between hearts that beat in the same frequency and for the same cause.
"Your nieces have grown," he said, pride filling his chest as he looked down at their victorious numbers. Then, the stallion signed heavily. "And they seem to have taken after me more than I would have liked." The stallion chuckled a little and then shook his head. Because Paladin knew that the massive, gold dragon was inherently a mare, the scales and potential roasting abilities did not frighten him as much as a normal dragon. Not frighten... Paladin held a healthy respect for dragons - a healthy... distancing respect.
"Donovan, this is Mirage the DragonHeart - a title well earned, I assure you," he said, bowing his head to the Edge leader. "The warrior pinto is Aaron and the beautiful, white femme is Nadira. I know not the others..." he said, narrowing his gaze at a newcomer. As Mirage spoke about defending her borders, the Valiant nodded in her direction before watching her true gold dragon companion wait behind when she took flight.
"I know not your name, Gold One, but can you send Mirage a message that I will aide in defending her borders?" he asked, not doubting the scaled creature's intelligence one bit. Paladin then nodded to his brother and grimaced at the battle waging below. "I was once a part of the land my daughters have chosen to attack, and I cannot fight them. Instead, I will go where I feel I am needed. Should you have need of me, I will be at the World's Edge." Paladin turned with a warrior's nod to his sibling before his tan hooves moved swiftly into the west.
03-11-2013, 02:57 PM (This post was last modified: 03-11-2013, 02:58 PM by Donovan.)
Paladin embraced Donovan like any warrior would, warmly but with little physical affection. Donovan knew this all too well, and the familiarity of the greeting made him relax. To be called brother, whether blood or not, was a high honor--and indicator of bond, a signal that each party would be willing to die for the other. Donovan, though he had been gone for a long while now, would always hold that status in Paladin's heart, and vice versa. Nodding curtly to his brother, he listened carefully as he spoke.
"Ophelia met me on the boarders of these lands," The heavy friesian started, locking eyes with Paladin. Through his words, the dark warrior's face stayed emotionless, "I have asked to join her cause, but like you, brother, I could not fight against my family." Donovan would not fight in the invasion, though loyal to his nieces' band, because he knew that Paladin was in the herd. Donovan had predicted that Paladin would not fight, and he was right. The brothers were alike in more ways than thought, and it was now brought to the light. Paladin introduced the horses, and dragon, surrounding them, and Donovan gave respectful nods to each of them. He wondered what Mirage had done to receive her title, and trusted Paladin that it was well-earned.
Watching as Paladin made his exit, Donovan spoke again, "I will join your daughters, brother, but need only call for me and I will come." Nodding again to those gathered, Donovan lifted his head and descended towards the ending battle, eyes catching his kin. Ophelia fought, and Ktulu was down--Donovan's heart pulled in his chest, a tightness that he knew as anger.
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