Rules of the site, as well as any information are located here (such as history, ranks, races, etc. etc.)

Where you can chat, complain, ruminate, weight train, or anything else you can think of which doesn't relate to the roleplay.

Advertise your sites here, or request affiliation. The rules are simple, just allow us to ad back...and don't double-post threads.

Member of the court, but with no quarters to call your own? Or perhaps you live comfortably in the village, and feel it’s the right time to move from the inn to a farm or cottage…well, request it with a title and description, and we’ll be sure to add it to the boards.

Request a roleplay here, or check it out to see if anyone else is looking for someone to rp with. May also Invite others to share a plot with your characters.

Place your character profiles here.

The gypsies reside here, and migrate from place to place in the woods (depending on their mood.) Since they are pretty much trapped in this region, they are nowhere near as nomadic as they may like. Seek for your fortunes to be told, purchase silver crosses and pretty baubles, or hire...a hunter.

Gypsy Prince: None, as of yet.

Brush, trees, weeds, brambles, thorns…pretty much everything you’d find in the forest. If there isn’t a specific region (such as the lake or hollow) then this is what you’re looking for, or what you’re not looking for. Words to the wise, though, this is the hunting ground of the Lukoi, the Court, and the home of the Gypsies…and it is very easy to get lost, whether the sun is up or not.

The meeting place for the Lukoi and home of the Ulfric. There is an unspoken law that no vampire should ever set foot here, as it would betray an ancient alliance between the pack and the court. Marking the location is a grand old oak, cracked in half countless years ago by a barrage of lightning. All that remains is it’s charred stump, which occasionally still seems to smoke, if you catch it at the right time.

Ulfric: Klara Maredith.

A small, pleasant little building with a very comfortable atmosphere. One of the few places in Littlewood where fear does not reign, as their first priest made sure this was hallowed ground. There is only one room, and one window, but a nice garden borders the front of the cottage. This is where the priest resides.

The people of Littlewood may not always be the happiest or most welcoming sort, but they love a good sale. Market day is just about the happiest you'll see them, next to their festivals. Countless stalls will line the streets here with all manner of good sold. Of course, there is the odd newcomer who seems to think selling goods in the evening is perfectly acceptable, considering all of those fancy people from the citadel who make their purchases in the late hours...

The holy building standing here in Littlewood stands upon the border of the woods. Small and unimposing, there seems to be an air of peace about it. Very unusual, to say the least. Tucked behind the church is an ever growing cemetery, which no doubt doesn't even begin to number the amount of people who've gone 'missing' in recent years.

Priest: None, as of yet.
Graveyard caretaker: None, as of yet.

Festivals abound in the village square. Smack dab in the middle is an old statue, worn far too much by weather to be able to determine the detailed features of a man on his horse. Aside from that, announcements are held, and the evening ‘auctions’ take place midnight of every month’s end.

The only residence willing to take in strangers of an eve. Those who find themselves as new arrivals in Littlewood flock to the inn, in hopes of finding friendly faces and making new connections. Indeed, it is friendly…but much like the rest of Littlewood, a pleasant manner and smiling face is hard to truly trust. But the beds are clean, the food is hot, and the drinks are cold.

Innkeeper: None, as of yet.
Scullery Maid 1: None, as of yet.
Scullery Maid 2: None, as of yet.

The exact opposite of the courtyards, yet not nearly so awful as the dungeons, this is where guards and soldiers of the citadel are trained for combat. Stables are located closer to the main building, while a large expanse of dirt with ample supplies for 'war/uprising' situations wait at the ready for anyone to practice a bit of blood-shed without the fun part (you know...the blood.)

Stable master: None, as of yet.

Caretaker: None, as of yet.

Despite the dreary inner atmosphere of the citadel, there is more than enough vibrancy to make up for it within the gates. A vast expanse of gardens and pathways encircle the property, rich with the most exotic of plants...some even held secret from the human eye for centuries. One particular aspect of the courtyard is a vast theatrical space, and a maze of thorns...quite an entertainment for the court members, especially when they drop unsuspecting slaves within to watch the show.

Head Gardener: None, as of yet.

Music is a subjective term sometimes. For instance, many lords and ladies, particularly lords…find this to be the perfect place for composing symphonies of screams and cries. With state-of-the are devices perfect for causing pain and misery in even the toughest of slaves, it’s an immortal sadist’s paradise.

Overseer/janitor: None, as of yet.

It is a wonder that such a priceless thing as a book could be so freely kept in such a large collection, but then again…the court members range from all ages. Money and trinkets are a very easy thing to accumulate over the course of a century or two. For those particularly fond of reading, many things here are permanently on-loan from the Library of Alexandria…

Head Librarian: Evelyn Moore

A thousand scents permeate the air here, from the most exotic of spices to the sweetest of delicacies. Fully-staffed and bustling at an alarming rate to feed the entire court, these seems to be the only truly peaceful place in the whole region. Perhaps because blood doesn’t need to be cooked…or perhaps the majority of servants who are off-limits from the lords and ladies for an easy meal are the ones who have to prepare them.

Head Chef: None, as of yet.

There are no grand windows bordering the walls of this great room (in fact, there are no windows in any part of the citadel.) Instead, there are large mirrors in there place, with ‘sills’ to rest upon, should the oddly morbid court member wish to be reminded that he or she can cast no reflection. The floors are always polished to a shine, and one could hear a pin drop echo off the very walls. Great galas are held in the ballroom, whether they are humane or not.