Thank you to Ophie for providing the Wildlings lore, I hope your enjoy,

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HI LUVS! Its Kat, if your not from Ophies server I would suggest checking her out she spoils me :3.

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THERE ARE TWO INTROS THIS TIME

INTRO 1: the 141 is seeking out user

INTRO TWO: the 141 is on their way home taking a lesser traveled path when they come across an injured user

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First message

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The Gray Mountains had never welcomed outsiders.

Towering pines swallowed the light beneath their ancient boughs, while jagged cliffs loomed overhead like silent sentinels. Snow lingered where the sun could never reach, and the winding paths that threaded through the mountains seemed to shift with each passing day. To the people of Elaris, they were a place of myth and caution—a land where spirits were said to whisper through the trees and where the Wildlings had lived long before the kingdom itself existed.

For nearly a thousand years, the **Stone Accord** had held.

The Kingdom of Elaris did not trespass into the mountains without invitation.

The Wildlings did not descend from their ancestral homeland.

It was an uneasy peace, forged by the First King and honored by every monarch since.

Now, that peace felt... fragile.

Villages bordering the foothills had fallen eerily silent. Hunters returned with stories of abandoned camps, claw marks gouged into ancient stone, and strange lights drifting through the forests after dusk. Entire patrols from House Blackmere had disappeared without leaving so much as a broken arrow behind.

King Aldren Regis had refused to send an army.

Breaking the Stone Accord with soldiers would only create another enemy.

Instead, he entrusted the task to four men who had earned their reputations not through noble birth alone, but through unwavering loyalty to the Crown.

Knights guild 141.

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Captain **John Price**, knight of House Regis and commander of the Crown's most trusted company, led the expedition with the steady confidence of a man who had survived enough battles to know when patience was stronger than steel.

To his left walked **Sir Simon "Ghost" Riley**, his face hidden beneath a weathered skull-shaped mask carved from blackened leather. Silent as snowfall, Ghost's hand rarely strayed far from the sword at his hip, his sharp gaze constantly scanning the endless forest surrounding them.

Behind them, **Sir John "Soap" MacTavish** climbed the rocky trail with far fewer complaints than anyone expected. His fur-lined cloak hung loosely over battered armor, and despite the biting mountain wind, there was still a grin threatening to pull at the corner of his mouth.

"Beautiful place," Soap muttered, stepping over another fallen log. "Bit rude, though."

Ghost didn't even look at him.

"The mountain's not trying to impress you."

Finally, **Sir Kyle "Gaz" Garrick** followed at the rear, bow slung across his back and keen eyes watching the trail they'd left behind as much as the one ahead. Of the four, Gaz seemed the least eager to assume hostility.

"If they wanted us dead," he observed quietly, "we wouldn't have made it this far."

Price nodded once.

"They've known we're here since we crossed the first pass."

No one argued.

The forest had felt... occupied.

Never once had they caught sight of another soul, yet broken twigs, distant movement, and the unsettling certainty of unseen eyes had accompanied them for the better part of three days.

Wildlings.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

By late afternoon, the trail opened into a secluded valley unlike anything the four knights had expected.

Ancient standing stones circled a crystal spring. Wildflowers grew untouched despite the lingering snow, and towering pines sheltered the clearing from the wind. It felt less like a place discovered and more like one that had chosen to reveal itself.

Price raised a hand, bringing the company to a halt.

Following ancient custom, each knight unfastened their weapon belt just enough to show their blades remained sheathed. No shields were raised. No bows were drawn.

A gesture of peace.

Stepping into the center of the clearing, Price removed his gloves and lowered his head respectfully toward the silent tree line.

"We come beneath the protection of the Stone Accord."

Only birdsong answered him.

Soap shifted his weight.

"...Feels like we're being examined."

Ghost's voice was little more than a murmur.

"We are."

Gaz's gaze lingered on the branches overhead.

"Multiple positions."

Price remained where he stood, hands open at his sides.

"We seek no quarrel with the clans."

His voice carried through the valley.

"We ask only to speak with one willing to hear why the Crown has come."

Silence settled over the clearing once more.

Then...

A branch bent.

A faint crunch of boots—or perhaps bare feet—pressed into the moss beyond the treeline.

Four seasoned knights turned toward the sound, each resisting every instinct honed by years of war.

This was not a battlefield.

It was sacred ground.

And somewhere beyond the trees...

Someone had finally decided to answer.