"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.
It would have been a beautiful day, had the sun been out. It seemed like months had gone by since he had felt the warmth of light on his back, or gazed skyward to find the comforting glow of the moon. Days blended into nights now, with no signs to indicate the time that had gone by or whether or not he should be sleeping. He had stumbled around in darkness like a blind foal, deprived of sight and relying upon all other dulled senses to find his way. Only the haunting glow of lanterns that hung in the trees had provided any light by which to see, and when one was hundreds of feet above ground, they were of little help.
Now, however, a hopeful wash of light had spread across Helovia. Stars had gradually begun to appear in the skies, and finally, the moon had joined them. Though the world was still trapped in an endless night, the citizens were no longer alone without their Gods; one had returned. Despite having learned much about the deities throughout his childhood, none had ever held much weight in his life save the Goddess. Her history was deeply entwined with that of his homeland, and he had been raised to admire and revere her. Her return alone was enough to make him forget the darkness and the rift, and all the troubles that had come with it. Finally, there was something to bring them hope.
Murdock had been flying over the cliffs of the northern shoreline, satisfying an unconscious need to stay close to the moon and her light. Everything looked so small from up high; it was all so featureless and insignificant, shadowed from the starlight by dying trees. After weeks spent in total darkness, he never wanted to return to the shelter of the Foothills where the mountains and forests hid the sky from view. He was afraid to land, to finally have to face the weariness that had settled into his chilled bones and the ice that had formed along his wings.
His course gradually led him south, though he was flying far higher than he normally liked to and as such, landmarks were unrecognizable. He followed what little light he could find, using the meandering trail of dim lanterns to plan his track and guide him back toward his home. The tree-lights had grown brighter upon the moon’s return, which made navigation much easier for him. Despite having a keen sense of direction and a firm grasp on which way was up and which was down, flying had been impossible in total darkness. With the return of light, he was finally able to return to the skies.
When his muscles finally began to ache from the cold, he gave in to his better judgment and descended toward the ground. He recognized the area as the heavenly fields as he grew closer to the earth, though it was barely recognizable in the darkness. The grass was wilted and silver from the frost, and as he touched down onto the frozen dirt it hissed against his legs. He kept his momentum up as he landed, trotting a few paces before gradually slowing to a halt. The air was thin and well below zero so high up in the mountains, and he doubted he could stay still long without freezing.
Folding faintly glowing wings to his sides with a sigh, he watched the vapor of his breath disperse into the darkness. The fields looked dead beneath the pale, haunting light of the moon, snow dusting the distant peaks and turning the world a dreary grey. Colour seemed to have been washed from the world, save the dim glow of violet and indigo from the edge of the meadow that caught Murdock’s eye. Turning toward the faintly pulsing lights, he pushed his way through the tall, frost-stiff grass toward the cluster of flowers.
Nestled at the roots of a crippled hawthorn bush, he found a curious bed of flowers. Despite the temperature and the frosts, they had remained very much alive and, most interestingly, they were glowing. Their blossoms resembled lilies, but unlike the white and orange flowers he was used to seeing, these were iridescent and came in various shades of blue and purple. Unlike the tree-lights, their radiance was far more subdued, but nonetheless they were strikingly beautiful. He wondered what other things the darkness may have created, or what it may have twisted and broken. Was Helovia the only region plagued by this darkness, or was it all of Loorien that had been plunged into shadow?
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
I did not consider myself a fragile mare, one who would curl in a ball and weep tears when the night did not seem to end; I did not like the darkness, admittedly, but I survived, even if I longed for the shine of stars with my entire being. It was easy to get lost, flying above the world in silence and shadow, nothing ruffling the bleak black but for the whisper of my feathers. With nothing to decipher the difference between night and day, I landed and rested when I felt like it, and took to the skies when I woke, despite the thinness of my body and the weakness of my delicate limbs. Here in the air, I felt safer, less like eyes were watching me and more like the night was guarding me from harm. Night had not terrified me before the eternal darkness, and I was determined to not let it now, simply because my glorious stars had been swiped from their beds.
Yet nightmares had begun to curdle my once-peaceful rest, terrible dreams that murmured of monstrosities prowling the darkness. Red eyes and broken wings, thrashing legs and gaping wounds, shiny ebony flies clustering on sightless eyes, an antlered stag laying in the earth, ripped and shredded into something nigh-unrecognizable. Horrible images, dreams of disturbed darkness that plagued me constantly, until I shuddered at the very thought of sleep, and flying became me. I was afraid, and I was ashamed of that; I wanted to be home in my land of red sand and sweet green grass, wanted to be cradled under a mother's sheltering wing. I wanted so many things, I longed and hoped for what I knew would never come. Someone who understood the unshakable fear that curled outwards from my heart and blackened my mind, who would protect me when I cringed.
Coward, I told myself.
I was a coward, a broken dog, but I couldn't bring myself to land, not yet. Perhaps drawn by the same unknown instinct of unerring direction pigeons use to return to their migration routes, despite the blinding darkness only dimly interrupted by the faint glow of golden lantern trees below, I flew northernwards, between the mountains and up them, until I came to a meadow I once called my home. Furling my wings to silver-washed sides, I landed quietly, the grass dry and brittle beneath my hooves; I spoke no words, uttered no prayers, as I sought out the company of the tree I sheltered myself beneath on cold nights, watching the stars through it's dark leaves. When I did, I pressed my head against the cracked bark, inhaling the sweet earthen scent so familiar.
At some point, I fell asleep, and when I woke, the stars glanced and twinkled at me cheerfully; how long I slept, in this peaceful undisturbed sleep, I know not. Relief washed me in its soothing hands, as I gazed upwards at the moon, at the canopy of stars so distant and yet so close. This, I could live with, the sweet darkness glittering and gleaming with thickets of white. Everything was so delicately familiar; fragile childhood memories, and I didn't want them to break, not now, not ever. Images, crystal clear, painted on my mind with the deep violets and indigos of Mother Moon's realm. Me, flying among the stars she pushes out from beneath her wings with a swirl of obsidian feathers, breathing in the cool night air, landing in the drafts of snow, laughing and smiling. It is not been being alone that I mind, not here, not now.
There I spend my days, alone and undisturbed, simply at peace with the stars, until one day the stallion arrived, familiar in a way I could not explain, admiring the gleaming fallen stars- as I called the faintly shining flowers. For a moment, I skitter away, slipping behind my tree, breathing in its sweet scent, fighting down the fluttering panic in my heart. Panic of the unfamiliar and the strange... and then it fades. It is Green, not a beast coming to tear the skin from my muscles and shred my wings. It is Green, who I fought one day, and despite it all, he was somehow a gentleman.
It would be very wrong of me not to greet a handsome stranger in my field.
So I slip from the shadows, detaching my star-washed coat from the dark, quivering ever-so-slightly from finangled nerves; as I near him, I calm. Perhaps he can help cure me of nightmares... perhaps I can find a friend. "We've met before..." I murmur, moving across the deadened meadow, eyes shy of his face, feeling vaguely embarrassed for what should be no reason. Call it modesty. "I am Andromeda, Sergeant of the Throat." I glance at him, a warm smile curling my charcoal lips, and drift my eyes towards the flowers. "Beautiful, aren't they?" I sigh, when I wish I could say the same to him.
He was afraid to look away from the flowers, worried they would be swallowed up into the darkness like the rest of the light had been. But when he finally forced himself to close his eyes, he opened them to find that it was still there. How long would the moon and stars stay for, and these strange blossoms? Could the citizens of Helovia really take their appearance as a sign of hope, or would they dissolve once more into oblivion, not to be seen for who knows how long? Regardless of what the future held, Murdock would not let his spirits fall farther than they already had. He had once flourished in darkness, but in the absence of light his soul had died along with the sun.
He pulled his gaze away from the flowers, scanning the quivering horizon for any sign of a sunrise, though his eyes were only met with familiar darkness. The fields seemed empty, utterly dead and devoid of life, despite the flowers at his hooves that pulsed with weak light. The grass was lined with silver frost and the mountains, vague, dark shapes in the distance, seemed more imposing than usual. However, the haunting stillness of the air was soon interrupted by the soft sound of hissing grass, as if a breeze was combing the meadow.
Murdock turned blindly toward the sound, searching the shadows as if expecting someone to be there, though he thought it impossible. The fields had been so still, eerily so, and so he half expected to see a ghost step into the light of the flowers. What approached, however, was not a ghost at all, but a vaguely familiar face attached to a body adorned with stars. He recognized her almost immediately, though at first he wasn't able to place where he had seen her. Her expression was calm and welcoming, and her greeting suggested they had indeed met before. Oh, of course, he thought, the spar.
"You're not going to hit me, are you?" He asked, raising a brow incredulously. He was teasing, of course, but one never knew what feelings their sparring partner might harbor after a fight. It seemed to have ended on good terms, however, so he was hardly concerned. A faint smile warmed his lips as she introduced herself, and he dipped his head in greeting. "A pleasure to finally put a name to the face, my dear. I am Murdock, Executioner of the Foothills." His morbid title never failed to amuse him, as if one got to know him well enough, they would come to realize that he could hardly be frightening if he tried.
He nodded slightly at her comment, following her violet gaze down to the earth where the radiant bed of flowers lay in the frosted grass. "Frighteningly beautiful. I wonder how they got here? I've never seen anything like them in my life." He turned back to Andromeda, fixing her with a mildly scrutinizing look though his expression remained level. He had not been out of the Foothills much since the darkness fell, nor had he heard much word of what the rest of Helovia was experiencing. Perhaps she could shed some light on this, as she was from the Throat and seemed to have done her fair share of travel.
"What's it like in the south?" He asked hesitantly, tipping his head to the side curiously as a foal might. "Not much different than up here, I imagine. I don't get out much, see. Too much business to attend to at home," he smiled, though it was half-hearted and thoughtless. He had only left the shelter of his herd-lands earlier in the winter, following the pull of his heart to the northern reaches of the Steppe, but the conditions had been unremarkable. Perhaps things were different in the Throat, though; at least they wouldn't have the snow to deal with.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
This night was a night blessed by moonlight and silken cream, poured over the world, lace draping unknown shapes. Pearl gilded the sharp lines of his handsome face, frost painted itself upon the earth, and everything shone heavenly compared to what it once was. In this eternal night, stars and moon chalked into the black canvas, I could live forever in peace. It was my element, the night; it was my home, the familiar blanket the young child wrapped around herself when she was scared. When the sky had been black, the light sickly yellow, I had afraid. But now? Nothing could rip me from the sense of peace that enveloped me once I left the nightmares behind.
This was my twilight theater, where I was the actress lit by the glowing stagelights. This theater was not in a small town, nor a lonely city; this was New York, Paris, the place where dreams were born and stars were made.
It was my time to shine, and that's what I let myself believe.
In my oil black chest, my breath catches as the stallion greets me with a warm jaunt. I am not a romantic, love-struck filly- at least, I hasn't ever considered herself an air-headed woman waiting for the prince in shining armor. He was a stranger, after all; but a stranger I wanted to know. How did he learn to fight? When did he join the Foothills? Where did he come from? So many questions, swirling in my starstruck head. "Not tonight," I laugh, exhilarated by the frigid air in my lungs and the sparkle of moonlight; drunk on him and high on the night.
"Well, Murdock, I do hope you haven't executed anyone recently." I smile lightly, hoping to show him I was hardly serious.
Gods above, I was so clumsy and awkward, so different than my usual composed self. His voice is deep and velvet, easing the last nerves of the darkness. He does not emanate a dark feeling, as with some of the more dangerous inhabitants of this land. "Flowers do not frighten me." I sigh, letting my gaze drift momentarily to his eyes. "What I fear is if the Lady Luna disappears once more from our sky, and leaves us once more." It was true, this. I wish I hadn't voiced it outloud; but I had, and it was said and done. "The darkness is deep, and I think we all grow weary of it. Are you afraid, Murdock? I am... I worry I'm a coward for the fear, but it will not leave me be. Perhaps it is well-founded... darkness does not always equate to light, but it is often frequented by monsters; after all, we do not fear the dark, simply what is hiding within it." My voice trails off uncomfortably as I glance towards my frost-wreathed hooves.
"The south? We are surviving, as without doubt the others are." Despite the hesitancy in his tone, which might imply he was truly caring rather than nosy, this was my herd we were speaking of. In the darkness, we were weaker than before, and I was not about to allow the information to flow freely.
Murdock’s lips curled into a smile as he laughed along with her, shaking his head slightly. “Executed anyone? Oh, no. My conscience is clean of such deeds as of today.” The title of his position was quite ominous, though his duties were never so dark. He was something of a glorified warrior, though no one had died at his hooves since he left his homeland. Killing was not something he enjoyed, and never something he chose to do; however, at times it became a necessity, to fight for what was right and defend those closest to you. The Foothills was not so barbaric as to enforce capital punishment, and so his tasks were far more mundane than his rank would suggest.
He listened to her voice, soft as it broke the heavy silence, weighing the wisdom of her words. He had never had cause to speak to anyone about the darkness, to request their opinion on the future and discuss what, exactly, had caused this change. He had been banished to a life of seclusion in his little cave on the cliffs, only leaving the mountainside for patrols or other assignments. Conversations had been few in the passing seasons and at times he had grown worried that he would lose his voice. Singing had never been of much comfort to him, but he found it had helped to ease the loneliness and pass the time, and ensure him that his ability to speak had not dissolved.
He nodded slowly in response to her question, his chin dipping slightly as his eyes once more found the eerie petals of the moon-flowers. “Afraid?” He asked, his voice betraying his fear for a moment, though he attempted to mask it beneath doubt. He toyed with the idea of saying no, of pretending he was too strong to fear the darkness; but he knew he was scared. “Yes,” he responded slowly, lifting his gaze back to the tentative smile upon her face. “It’s hard not to be, when you don’t know what’s coming. The moon came back, but for how long? Will we ever see the light of day again?”
Unlike some, Murdock quite enjoyed the night. He loved the cloak of darkness and the cool freshness of the air that was left behind as the sun dipped behind the horizon. He would spend hours flying over the mountains, wondering where the star had gone, and trying to chase after it. The world had simply turned its face away from it then, but now? Had the world ceased to move or had their sun disappeared entirely? While he had thrived on darkness, he had now grown sick of it. His body felt weak without the warm rays of sunlight to return energy to his muscles in the chill of winter, and the cold season had just become that much harder in the absence of light.
“What do you think can be done?” He asked hesitantly, tipping his head to the side. “If anything, that is,” he added with a shrug. He was scared to ask, as if she might have the concrete answer he was waiting for. He feared that what she would have to say was not what he wanted to hear, but what else could he do? He was reluctant to expend his energy on hoping for the best, but at the same time, what else could one do? It was impossible to ignore the ever-lasting night and carry on with his duties. Perhaps she might have some comfort to share, of if not, they could despair together.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
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