"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.
08-11-2013, 11:16 PM (This post was last modified: 08-12-2013, 01:13 AM by Roskuld.)
Nothing about this situation was very well thought out. None of it.
It was maybe a day since I stormed away from that freaky chick with the kind-of cool lighting mark down her leg, and I was still resolutely making my way southward for some reason. Well, okay, I knew it was a day—actually it was about 21 hours, 46 minutes, and 32 seconds since that stupid side-show. What the hell kind of useless information was that? Whatever; I guess I had been heading south anyway before I was sidetracked by that monster-lizard-zilla...but, thinking back on it, even then I didn’t know where I was going. Now, battered and sore with a crisply scabbed burn on my chest and stomach, I was still heading to who-knew-where, and doing it proudly and a definite strut to my gait.
But now there wasn’t so much of a strut.
My head was drooping. My tongue was thick and clumsy and craving water. My legs felt like lead, my torso was throbbing, and my scabbed up burn was starting to ooze things and sting in a worrying way. Besides all that cute stuff, it was the very first time I actually felt tired. No, I mean tired, like every drop of shock and energy in my body had been wrung out and melted in the gritty sand underneath my frogs. Also, goddamn this sand was uncomfortable as hell, all itchy and scratchy and getting in awkward places. It only reinforced the message that I hadn’t had anything to drink since….oh jeez. Since before the monster. I had run into that battle with very little to eat and drink, with almost all my energy drained from running all those days before, and now as I trudged on through what was obviously turning into a desert, I was well and truly screwed 21 hours, 46 minutes, and 32 seconds after my first victory.
Fuck me.
The only thing keeping me moving was the light before me; this intense beacon in the darkness of the sky that kept hope alive in my breast, which was saying something, because fear was doing some pretty interesting things to me. Just like it was the first time I was actually exhausted, it seemed like the stupidity of my actions was starting to run up on me—and they were honest to god stupid, and I cringed just thinking about how close to death I could’ve come from that bastard of a creature. And how close to dying I actually was at that moment. It made my limbs shake even harder than they would’ve by themselves, and I was banking everything on this last hope of the bright light in front of me, hoping there was something there for this tired body, because otherwise I was screwed right out of my hide.
But other than all that yahoo nonsense, I wasn’t thinking much. My fear was this roiling thing and my exhaustion was horrible, but underneath all that there wasn’t much room for cognitive activity. My head was just this fuzzy balloon of absolute squat, and I was a literal zombie as I trekked across the desert—and the only think that shook me from my stupor was the notion that I had crossed a clearly marked border. It took a few seconds for me to realize what it meant—that there was something alive and breathing and marking their territory—and when the idea finally hit me, I stopped in my tracks. “Whoooops,” I said, my voice a sluggish thing, and I backed up quickly with lazily flailing limbs; I backed as far away from the border as I could before I actually lost balance and fell over like some depraved pony tweaking on strange shrooms. I was on my side, and some hidden panic somewhere between the fear and the tired told me I wasn’t getting back up any time soon; my legs didn’t feel like legs, but some sort of wiggly, jelly-like substance. “Dun matter,” I slurred, my eyes heavily lidded and still gazing at the light like it was my personal guardian angel, “Gotta sit down anyway….jus’ a mo’….Gotta….close my eyes a little…”
There was a silhouette in the light, the shadowy shape of a horse I had seen once before in my life, the light bouncing around his frame like some strange, ironic halo. I watched him approach me, even as my eyes were steadily falling, as well as my head; he was speaking, but his words went into my head instead of my ears, and some reasonable whisper in the back of my head said he wasn’t here, but that didn’t matter, because the God of Fucking Time was looking down on me, a smirk in those arrogant blue eyes I knew and hated and kind of liked at the same time, and he was saying—
--he said, “Look what the ingenious Roskuld got herself into now? What brilliance; it’s exactly the kind of way I would expect my daughter to screw herself over.”
And I looked up at him and pinned my ears and said, “Go soak your fat head, bastard,” except it was more of a slur and more of a whisper and less of a coherent statement, and I wasn’t looking at anyone because I had collapsed and I was down for the count.
[Ros has passed out outside of the Throat border! She's out cold for now so anyone's welcome to find her! Keep it to a minimum please-- only 2 or 3 others :3]
08-12-2013, 01:02 AM (This post was last modified: 08-12-2013, 01:06 AM by Cera.)
Cera How long will you play this game? Will you fight or will you walk away?
Bored.
It isn’t often that the youth is in such a state, but with no job and little to do- especially with Midas on constant edge in the silver-lit darkness and banning him from leaving- Cera was caught in a web of nearly depressing idleness. Ilaria was of little help, just as bored as he was and far too different from him to deal with his sighing and whining. So, despite his lack of a title or specific job, he’d taken to patrolling the borders from high above, eagle eyes catching every cranny down below as he sped comfortably over the borders in the false lighting overhead. Paling wings glowed under the pinprick stars in velvet backdrop, saturated canvas similar as he turned into a haloed figure of ivory and light cream under his land’s sister God. As much as he revered the Gods in general, Cera couldn’t help but wish the others would return, that the sun would touch the horizon once more and bathe them in its lovely glow.
Nothing unusual has been happening inside the reaches of the sandy land, not that the youth was aware of at least. It seemed as if everything and everyone in Helovia hung on a string, waiting for a tidal wave, a breaking point, something to snap or cut the delicate crimson string that seemed to spiderweb through all creatures living on the peninsula. So of course, the yearling wasn’t anticipating anything odd to appear on the borders, moonlight glowing on the metal of the half-created wall, silent aside the buffeting of his wings and the soft cadence of his breaths. Despite this, Fate seemed keen on surprising him, or perhaps Lady Karma was playing her hand in his life again. Maybe it was the one who fell beneath his gaze who was given that nameless celestial guidance, maybe he’d been drawn out into the air in order to find the prone form limp upon the bloody sand and clay below him.
Whoever it is, they glow like snow upon the dark ground below, flakes that never touch down in the Dragon’s Touch even in the harshest of Frostfalls. With no movement forthcoming as he circles uncertainly above, Cera’s brow drew together in concern, and he folded his wings and fell from the sky towards the unfamiliar form. There were few in the Throat Cera did not or could not recognize, only another reason to pull the frown upon his lips lower. His worry sped his fall, and he landed with a harsh clash against the sand, a cloud of particles following his descent. Rushing to the side of the unconscious girl, appearing around his age, he folded his wings and dropped to his knees beside her, pressing his muzzle against her form in various places. Once he assured she was breathing steadily, and her heart rate was not too slow or too fast, he anxiously looked around. What could he do?
Ilaria was able to heal small cuts and scrapes, but her magic had gone absent when the Gods had vanished too, and her frustration and desire to help was obvious. The first thought in his head was to get Onni. She’d healed him when his chest had been gaping and pouring blood, poisoned, and she’d become very dear to him. Ilaria leapt from his shoulders to the ground, running off into the darkness while Cera tilted his crown and sang out for her. If she was asleep, Ilaria would most likely find her, and if not, then Cera would call her back once he spotted Onni coming to his desperate summons. Frowning, he draped a wing over the filly awkwardly, making sure not to fully touch her frame, shielding her from the cold without intruding upon personal space that she could not technically defend in her current state. He remained there, a silent stone guardian with an expression of worry as he waited for the one he'd called for to come and help him and the girl beneath his wing.
It's not hard to live like a ghost.
I just haunt all that I wanted, and leave what I don't.</style>
From his patrol high in the sky, Gaucho's stormy gaze had watched as Cera had swiftly descended to the ground. He knew vaguely of the relationship between Midas and the colt, but the idea of adopting another, was not something that his simple brain could understand. However as the colt dropped, Gaucho's gaze found that he was falling towards another - likely one his age.
Game? He wondered simply, mentally nudging Mara for her opinion. Sleepily the snake slid forward until she spilled over his forlock like a dash of silver in his dark locks. Her tongue scented the air, as her dark eyes peered below. Both pairs of eyes wondered of the shape below was Zenobia, yet without wings, Mara decisively shook her head, snuggling back up into his antlers. Making a loop, Gaucho had time to see the colt nudge the female, before his back was turned and his patrol began to take him in another direction.
SsssSssSs Mara hissed, wriggling in his antlers to try and force her bonded to turn his blocky head. With a grunt, the bay looped once again the eternal night sky, his bay body lit up with shades of red, as flames from the fire were cast high into the sky.
Game He repeated again, but then paused.
His eyes narrowed, as he watched Cera drape a wing over the creature, and call out into the night. His dark ears flickered, and his mind began to waver on whether or not this was truly a game being played by the two below. Although they didn't appear to be a threat, the associate between the golden child below, and My-das was so strong, that it pulled the bay down from the skies. Large black wings buffeted easily in the air, bringing Gaucho swiftly and rather elegantly down to the sands. As his large hooves struck the terrain, he grunted, turning his antlered brow towards the pair.
"Playing a game?" He inquired, his rich voice sounding clipped as he carefully and choppily formed the words. From his antlers, Mara edged forward once again, trying to spy movement from the filly's chest.
08-13-2013, 01:18 AM (This post was last modified: 08-13-2013, 01:22 AM by Roskuld.)
"….Playing a game?” my dad was saying, this voice full of all kinds of mocking and daring and sarcasm, like I had done something so laughably idiotic and he was savoring the triumph of my failure. Also, that was a really melodramatic sentence, but that’s what I was seeing, alright? My dad, nothing but a shadow looming in front of me with these impossibly blue eyes and a smirk that said everything I didn’t want to hear.
Am I dying? I asked, and was shocked when I felt absolutely nothing but some vague buzzing in my bones.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, coming right next to me, almost on top of me, so that a cool shadow came over my sight, blocking the southern beacon I had been following so resolutely. It was hard to look at my father; his image swam and shifted in so many different colors and forms and popping, shimmering lights—yet those eyes were still there, watching me, evaluating the weakness in my blood and the strength that had run away the night I grew up and left home.
Where’s Ma? I asked, still with that unnerving sense of lethargy.
My father shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure,” he said, and his tone was haughty and so full of indifference it was almost painful to listen to, “and I’m not bothered, to be honest. Hates my guts with a seething passion, and I don’t like looking at her face too much either. Also, she’s mad at you.”
Mad at me?
“Are you a goddamned parrot? Yes, mad at you, for leaving the herd, I think. Broke her heart, or something to that effect. Disappointed in you. I think the word ‘coward’ came to mind once or twice…”
And all the while he was staring at me with those eyes, those blue things filled with mirth at what I was feeling—because he could look right through me, right into the hurt in my chest that his dagger-filled words were inflicting on me. Just….watching me as I crumbled under his gaze, like it didn’t even matter, like I was just….a thing that had happened, a mildly curious thing that shouldn’t have been a thing at all.
Don’t leave, I begged, because suddenly my biggest fear was watching my father walk off.
He certainly smiled a little wider, and the lights popped a little more boisterously, as though he seriously contemplated turning his hoof at that moment. “And why shouldn’t I? Why should I stay by your side and watch my daughter die an idiot’s death? What’s in it for me?”
I don’t want to die.
“Tough. Should’ve just stayed home like a good little girl and kept Mesec company.”
I’m not little.
“You shouldn’t be little, you’re right. But all this power you have at your hoof-tips, and you don’t even know what to do with it. No, you’re a child, Roskuld. A child who refuses to grow up, a child who doesn’t deserve the right to my inheritance.”
Dad, please, I begged, because he looked away from me; his eyes left mine, and he was just a blurry block of shade coming in and out of focus, and from far, far away something was hurting and stinging and aching and I couldn’t run away from it and I couldn’t get dad to come back and there he was, going, going, going….
-------
I didn’t know others had found me by then; some scrawny kid and this other huge dude I had seen before had seen me laying in the dirt and sand, twitching, murmuring strange words and phases like daddy and please don't, all the while battling with the demons in the dark—and I heard them sometimes, and even felt the warmth of the young boy’s wing as it embraced me from the cold. But I was separate from them, disconnected from their worry and their inquiry, because without the shield of the world and my own stubborn will, my mind was punishing me and I was defenseless against the deepest fears of me.
Cera How long will you play this game? Will you fight or will you walk away?
Into her lungs, breath is drawn. Movements ripple faintly, like ghostly echoes, down her spine and across her canvas like a thousand pianists fingers. Even with his loud call she does not stir, though her face is pinched as if she is having a terrible nightmare, little sounds of distress nearly inaudible despite Cera's straining ears. They are alone. Then he hears it, so distracted with his concern he nearly missed it- wingbeats. They are heavy, familiar. Not nearly as familiar as his father's, which he could time as easily as his breaths, could use them to distinguish him without ever opening his eyes even if Midas was in a group. Emeralds turned skyward, pale golden face peering into the star-speckled distance until a familiar dark form glows like mocha under the weak light within his vision. Gaucho hovers above them uncertainly, though normal activities always seemed to bring such a look upon his face. Cera gave out a quiet, wordless call, putting a tiny note of plaintiveness in its chords, something he could still manage with his young age. Gaucho seemed to finally realize something was not right, or was at least confused enough to check out the situation in an attempt to figure it out, for he too began to descend towards the small figures huddled upon the cool sand.
"Playing a game?"
The gruff, bemused question isn't amusing at this time. Cera shook his glowing crown and a frown pulled at his lips heavily. "No, not a game. She's hurt. She won't wake up. I don't know who she is...what do I do?" Jade eyes looked to Gaucho for guidance, still so young despite all he'd been through, including the scar he bore to prove it. Gaucho was familiar, safe. He was around Midas often enough that Cera had simply adopted him into the family, even if he was relatively invisible to the bay brute in comparison to his father. Gaucho was the only one around to help him, to help the girl beneath his wing, and Cera had so much faith and trust in the dark stallion that it was ridiculous for him to even contemplate believing or thinking Gaucho could not fix this, could not remove them safely from the situation they had gotten caught in.
Turning, the youth looked down at the icy blue lass, worry pinching his brow and drawing lines at the corners of his mouth. "I don't know how to heal her..." Gazing down at the swollen, infected burn that adorned her growing body. It was clearly left without attention or aid, but she was young, it was likely she didn't know what to do about it either. Ilaria hissed unhappily in his mind wherever she was, grumpy over the fact she could not use her magic, and Cera hushed her softly in return until she was soothed. Eyes flickering back up to Gaucho he waited, not knowing what to do, for direction.
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