Sleeping Dragon They will never even find what is left of you

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Uleön moves on lazily when the Heda sets the path. She had not expected to come to find a new place to serve in so little time, not even a day after being cast away from the Zeneth Range. Perhaps it was a good sign, maybe this place really needed her services and she was obliged to provide them.

"Eldfell is a school, of course," spoke the crone in a proud tone. She looked up at the Heda respectfully and elaborated, "we Sages are an order of scholars, masters of Botany, Geology and Astronomy. We are Medics, Midwives, Mentors and Advisers. We are the knights of the mind," she claimed, quoting one of her own mentors, "and Eldfell is our canon," she added, feeling a rush of nostalgia and pride. Her years in Eldfell had been tough, full of self doubt and second thoughts, she was leaving a lot behind, things that any wolf would want and cherish, but in the end Uleön had found her path among the Sages of Eldfell, a solemn order. Uleön's eyes trailed away from Thuringwethil, and on to the world around them admiringly.

"Once a Sage masters it's chosen Trade they're sent out to find a place to put their studies to practice," Uleön explained, "We vow to build no families or bear any children, and we leave any alignments other than that to Eldfell behind. Once we find that place we're bound to serve in it for life, or until we're asked to leave, regardless of any changes in leadership or directions." she finished to meet the Heda's eyes once more, a quick glance, and hoped none of what she'd revealed threatened the Drageda ways.

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