"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.
09-15-2013, 12:19 PM (This post was last modified: 09-15-2013, 09:23 PM by Carnesîr.)
He flew.
He leapt and danced and twirled like the falling leaves, the summer rain sweet on his lips as he ran, slender legs quivering beneath his lithe frame, tail kinking and knotting in pride and wonder. Sorrows rested heavy on his chest, but he shook them off, shedding the tears on his face, until he was unburdened once more, just a child chasing the sun. "Ego!" They had cried, their voices hammering against his face like glinting swords cutting at his heart, and he looked at Lólindir, a pleading crescent curling his lips, but she looked away.
"Tolo ar nin!" The child uttered outloud, a diamond falling from his eyes of earth. No tears, he told himself. Onwards he took, through the falling leaves and autumn storms, a seed of dandelion fluff stolen by the wind, a corpse carried away by the tide of the sea.
When the first flakes of silver flakes fell, he made light of it, even as worried tugged at his heartstrings, memories of the fragile unicorns who whispered in fear in the forest of the darkness ahead, the scarcity of what would quench thirst and ease hunger. From the first snowfall, quick as the river flowing downhill he let himself run, tugging free of the clutching memories, outrunning a past he could not escape.
Still they stepped in his dreams, murmuring apologies. "Yonya, alámenë." Go away! GO AWAY!
The first hairs of his beard were beginning to appear, and for that he was proud, looking at his reflection in the water with glee until a crackle of hooves, loud and harsh, disturbed him. Once more, the colt turned to run.
Darkness fell as he soared away from all the mistakes, darkness that became deep and impenetrable, and suddenly he was reduced to little more than a shadow in the trees, alone, without mother or father to turn to, no sun to guide him forward.
"Massë?" He cried out in a voice as soft as silk and a lovely a sound as imaginable. "Massë?"
Dappled moonlight passed over her sterling coat as she slipped through the murk, cleft toes moving through the underbrush soundlessly. Eyes the color of rain wandered through the forest far faster than her feet ever could, searching the grey for any sign of life. It had been seasons since she last passed through this haven for the homeless, and memories of darkness and red eyes chasing at her heels haunted her. With the moon's gentle face glowing over Helovia, the darkness seemed so much milder, so much sweeter; under new moon it had been malevolent, almost waiting to swallow you whole. She shuddered, remembering the shades of Isilme and their angry black teeth, ever ripping for your throat. Old wounds ached at the thought, but she still hurried on her way, wishing some old soul would appear so she could go home.
She did not have to wait long.
A sad, sweet voice danced over the silence on ballerina legs, soft and uncertain - the voice of a lost child, of abandon, of sorrow. Dark ears perked, wondering at the meaning of the foreign word. Massë, she repeated in her head, massë, massë, massë; it was an alien sound, but gentle. It was repeated, with the same innocent melancholy only a child could harness. Huyana tilted her head lightly, biding her time as distant steps grew near, and they were as quiet as the voice, creeping through the forest with youthful uncertainty. She remembered a time when life seemed as a tidal wave she could not escape; everything washed upon her like a deluge, and there was no driftwood to cling to, no branches to grasp at. Drowned is what it seemed like, what she was, but just as beauty fades and youth washes away, she was pulled up from the water and laid down, sputtering and drenched, but alive nevertheless.
She saw the peek of pearly horn rush through the darkness, the glint of doelike eyes. It was not a child, but not yet a man, body still soft and tender from the summertime of childhood. Brows kneaded together with worry. "Wait!" she called out, voice gentle and low as not to startle him and send him away. The tip of her tail flicked, brushing against her hocks. Huyana wondered if he would understand her. She moved towards him, a wreath of moonlight crowning her; she almost seemed like a forest nymph, with her quiet ease of movement, but when the soft light fell upon her face, it lit her eyes in gentle blue - colors of rain, of seas, of oceans - she was no earthen entity, but one bound reverently to the water. "Are you lost?"
--
i'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart,
Above him the moon is a crude, thin scar, carved into soft black flesh. The darkness crawls over his skin like a thousand spiders, the urge to scream and unleash the fears swarming in his chest curdling in his throat, more persistent and strong by each dreadfully, painfully slow moment. Alone! There is panic surging, electric in his blood, sending him stumbling in a tizzy forward, gaiety disappeared, grace lost to terror, cleft hooves scrambling wildly. Help me! He wants to screech, shrieking for help. Alone, alone, alone! Where are they? Where are his people, his family, the ruins of the council staring down at him? Abandoned, cast out, no shelter to save his rotting pelt for the cold rain. No mother to warm him, no father to teach him.
Out on his own.
Words, little known to him, tumble across the darkness, fleeting as a ray of sun in the clouds, hardly more than the smallest of comforts. Carnesîr halts, his earthen eyes seeking out the angel surrounded by demons, finding the most beautiful girl he has set eyes on. Graceful and lithe as Them, as His People, with cleft hooves and gorgeous eyes filled with quiet worry, a tail long and plume full. Blue as the silver rain-clouds, with a mane of black. Then he tumbles head over heels into the vast abyss, filled with an emotion that lightens his heart. Hope; hope that she was also once a native, that she knows, understands, and then the chilled feeling of ease I replaced by fear that itches at his skin. Does she know the story? "Mi van me?" He queries, a lilting touch to his voice that bespeaks of a question, shoving away the thick thoughts that stick to his mind.
Fidgets, then stills. More foreign words fall, a concoction of jumbled vowels and adjectives, then the words have smashed on the ground, shattering at his feet. "Pedig edhellen?" He tries one last time.
His black hoof scrapes across the cold earth glumly, and then he lifts his eyes, trying to remember the meanings and translations he learned briefly living on the fringes of the S'eva cities. "Am where I?" The grullo attempts, fumbling blindly, the meaning not always clear for the improper grammar. "Lost am I; you help I? Need... shelter rain from. Home."
Something twists his lips, tugging them downwards, and his chest quivers.
He paused, and his eyes groped for her in the darkness.
Pretty dark eyes found her - he rushed towards her on cloven hooves. She watched him serenely, glad he did not balk and run away. Mi van me?; more foreign words - this time spoken with so much hope. Huyana shakes her head gently, helplessly, wondering if she could help him anyway without knowing his tongue. The grullo squirmed before her, before quieting down. Pedig edhellen?. Blue eyes widen, and she blinked apprehensively, aching to know the meaning of such beautiful words. They were like the rustle of leaves on summer's eve, the quiet trickle of a babbling brook - so graceful, lilting over the moonlight and into her ears like music - but still she shakes her head impossibly.
He caught on to her deficiency; am where I?, the colt wondered. This, she knew - he was most definitely lost. Huyana let a thin smile thread through her lips, lingering about her eyes. "Helovia," she answered, land of the hiding sun. He continued. Lost am I; you help I? , the words were clumsy and unpracticed, but she understood him well enough - she nodded.
Something changes in his face; his lips twist into the picture of sorrow, and something broke in her heart for him. The words fell upon her destitutely, concern capering across her expression. She moved forward quietly, extending her nose to touch any part of him, to comfort him. Huyana knew this feeling all too well, and it showed in her eyes, on the gentleness of this gesture. "I have too," the rainchild admitted, tilting her head softly to gaze into his eyes. "But there are always so many other new homes you could choose, so many new futures—" she paused, worrying that he may not understand her. Regardless, she pushed on. "There is hope." Huyana meant these words; she remembered all her dark times - she had survived drowning, always had a chance to flounder out of the water; she prayed that he'd find it as well.
The roan drew back, already charting the northern path toward the Basin - she hoped he didn't mind the snow. "If you wish for a home, come with me," she told him softly, aching for his tender youth. After a brief pause, the sterling roan continued. "My name is Huyana."
--
i'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart,
Souring his mouth is the taste of dismay, lovely dreams snatched away from him, leaving him lost and alone. He feels churlish, awkward and brittle, a crumpled, dead something that is far from where is belonged, pecked at by stubborn scavengers and attacked by the unknown, killed by deserting hopes. There is no sense of time encompassing him, nothing that whispers the clock is ticking, ticking, ticking, the seconds flying by faster and faster, that the minutes are trickling through his hooves. Perhaps what makes him confusing it the utter of lack of coherent sense to him; he is all collections of clashing thoughts and memories that roar like a tsunami against the present, until the future weaves with present and threads with the past.
The wind swirls, snagging on his mane, whispering that a choice is to be made.
All that he sees and taste is death, encroaching on his boundaries.
Take me home! He doesn't want any promise of safety and vague futures. What he craves is the rumbles of Galathil's voice, Lólindir's voice that whispers like the falling autumn leaves. Homesick, isn't that the word?
But it doesn't quite explain the pain wrenching his gut, twisting a knife into his heart, until something is rising in his throat, thick yellow bile that chokes him until he might just fall, pass out on the cold frozen earth. Everything is overwhelmingly unfamiliar; every mistake a disaster, a hurricane sweeping through his precariously built straw huts, the strands of yellow grass flying, lonely, through the deep gray clouds. He wished he stayed at home, even if by some warped sense of wrong loyalty, that he had not fled like a coward, a dog cowed with it's tail beneath its legs. Yellow-bellied liar, slimy oddball. I couldn't stay. They were pushing me away!
But he could have.
"Helovia," he sighs, turning the word into a deserted shelter of loneliness, a place for last chances. His eyes are turning wet, though he drives it away desperately. Then her breath is warm- and sweet- the scent of wet grass- hot on his cheek- and all his fears are vanquished by his beautiful angel, a savior, for just a moment. Her muzzle is soft and tickles him, and for a moment his lips quirk flippantly, nerves making him twitch away at her touch.
Her eyes are meeting his, and he glances downwards, wanting to hide his damp eyes.
"Hope..." Carnesîr murmurs. "I will come, elerrina." He uses the word quietly, knowing she will not understand it.
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Chasing the sun, thunderheads at my tail
