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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook


  • For the Timeline of the Rift's history, please visit the separate Timeline page.

Isilme & Helovia

  • Isilme & Isilme: Anarore
  • If you wish to browse Helovia, it is available at

History of the Rift: A Time Before

The Rift: a place born between places. It began as an amalgamation of intention: born from the stray fragments of every dream (and nightmare) ever dreamed, from the remnants of every spell ever cast, all the lost and forgotten ideas of all the worlds surrounding it. In the beginning, it was not a kind place. The energies contained within it writhed and eddied, consuming everything they touched, warping and destroying. The Rift began as a devouring mouth. It tore off chunks of everything it could: pieces of other worlds, strange magics, unfortunate souls. But as it pulled in more, more and more, it was influenced by the things it consumed.

Four living souls found their way into the Rift, and were not extinguished. Four souls of immense power. The energies surrounding them in this dark place twisted their bodies, warped their minds, imbued them with power and destruction in equal measure. And they became the Rift's first gods.

Vjanta, the tigress, claimed dominion over the Southern Seas. Her commanding presence filled the seas with life. Flora and fauna alike flourished under her rule. But the influence of the Rift gradually destroyed her. Her mind grew corrupted; she desired only power and more power.

Wise Reszo, the wolf god, ruled the Western Mists. The shadows around him filled with knowing, with secrets and truth. But over time the creative power of his mind spun into darkness. His truth and wisdom became twisted; his mists grew dark and fearsome.

Caevoc, the crocodile god, defended the Eastern Flats. His great, armored form protected the little lives of his followers as they grew and proliferated. But he was driven mad by his own domain. The peace and safety of his seaside mirages became twisted illusions, sickening and impossible to escape.

Vourib, the bear god, ruled the Frozen North with his strength and nobility. Those dwelling under his care learned to survive the harsh terrain with his infallible guidance. But he, too, fell to the Rift's corruption. Drowning in the bloodied waters of his own dominion, he lost himself to wild ferocity.

Under the rule of the first gods, the Rift stabilized. Other souls were drawn into its clutches, morphed and reshaped but not destroyed. These souls followed the gods, cherished and praised them, but gradually the Rift ate away at the minds of its deities. The four protectors lost interest in their charges. Hungered only for power, for destruction.

The other souls of the Rift cried out in despair.

Though their cries went ignored by their own gods, others did hear their pleas. In a place called Helovia, a pantheon of divine beings had ruled for ages, incorruptible and certain in their power. These beings reached out to the Rift. They pulled the four Rift gods into their own domain, ripping out the corrupted hearts of the Rift. Hoping to heal it.

In the world of Helovia, fierce battles raged. The Rift gods, mad and furious, did battle with the Helovian gods. Mortal followers of both sides plunged into battle as well, but in the end the corrupted Rift gods were killed. Their diseased magic could spread no more.

But the guardians of the Rift were dead. Without them, without their leadership, their magic, their guidance, the Rift began to fade. Its roots no longer drew on even their corrupted strength.

This could not be. The last remnants of the four dead gods found each other in the land of Helovia. They united to form a new creature. It called itself Kisamoa, and it rent the land of Helovia with all the fury of those who had been destroyed.

Kisamoa, embodiment of the Rift's power, tore the Helovian gods apart. He tore open a portal back to the Rift and forced the Helovians through it, to fill his fading home with power and magic anew. To save it.

The Rift was not healed, but it was alive. Unstable and floundering, it burgeoned with the lives of these new souls. Refugees though they were, they held in their hearts the power to shape it. To make this strange new place their home.

Reign of Kaos - 1173

Ushered through by Kisamoa, Helovians poured into the Rift. They arrived scattered and fearful. Families were broken apart. Friends and lovers lost each other in the chaos. During this time, other souls found their way into the Rift as well, drawn by its inescapable hunger. The newcomers all had one thing in common: They were trapped.

They must find a way to survive.

Kisamoa urged the newcomers to explore. Make the Rift their own. As they did so, the corrupted heartlands began to return. A specter of Vjanta appeared in the Southern Seas, perilously beautiful. Reszo's voice echoed in the Western Mists, calming the angry spirits there. The Rift seemed to be healing.

But then Kisamoa made a grave mistake. Moved perhaps by pity, or by some scruples of his own, he began a ritual at the Scint River, which carried the souls of the dead. He intended to bring back the Helovian lives lost to the powers of the Rift. The ritual went awry. The dead returned, but they returned with vengeance. They attacked Kisamoa and the living Helovians, seeking only to destroy. Kisamoa forced open the Eastern Flats so the survivors could escape, but in doing so he gravely wounded his already unstable home.

Return of Hope - 1174

Kisamoa knew he needed to rectify his mistake. After the spectacular failure of his ritual on the Scint, he appeared before the Rift's new citizens once more. To each of them, he gave a strange gift: a small orb of light. A Hopelight. Though he did not explain exactly what he intended, he told them the Hopelights should help to heal the Rift's damage.

Now the fate of the Rift rested in the hearts of those it had devoured. Newcomers, natives, Helovians and strangers all wandered the ruined realm together. And together, they brought the Hopelights to the ravaged, darkened corners. Led by a matriarch of the Loricatrunc, they began at Siren's Summit. But from there, they spread out: their Hopelights bringing peace and certainty to the darkness of the Green Labyrinth, the Rainforest Cliffs, the Pinnacle. Uwaritace, Akvo City, Halyven. The Mangrove Tidepools, the Portal, Solanis….

Little by little, hope was restored.

Those who undertook these tasks were not always certain to what end they worked. But after they had finished, they gathered one final time at the Pinnacle. The matriarch led them. Kisamoa joined them. And there, awakened by their efforts, a new goddess appeared: Hope.

Hope took the form of a great deer. She thanked the Riftians (for regardless of their beginnings, they all now belonged to the Rift) for their hard work. And with her guidance, the first herd was formed: The Kingdom of Halyven.

At this time, the Frozen North also returned. Briefly, Vourib appeared. With the help of some Riftians, he was able to soothe the raging waters of the Blood Falls and render the region safe for habitation.