In a secluded valley, far up through the cold mountains - so high up that the other races of the world don't know it's there. Magically altered to be comfortable to it's inhabitants... who, admittedly, would probably be comfortable anywhere they wish. However, the lush green grass warm with a magically-created sun always seems to comfort. The tall trees with crystalline bark and the very tasty critters within them only serve to sweeten this place: all in the caldera of an ancient extinct volcano. 'Mount Highup', as the other races call it, a very amusing sort of name to those that exist there... dragons. Considered a meeting place, dragons find their way there to alert other dragons of threats to their existence, or perhaps a dragon gets bizarrely lonely and asks to meet others. Perhaps another would-be Dragon Lord wants to strike up an army of allies and lay waste to the surrounding areas. All are quite viable, as dragons have varied reasons for being. However, there are a few dragons that stay there at all times: the Council of Wyrms. Raised to care for this place and the interests of dragons since hatchlings, these creatures are considered worth respect. That is, of course, save for those that merely serve the Council: like the young dragon known as Orbak. Orbak was merely a caretaker, in charge of one of the old ruins that lay within the caldera. It was a surprise, then, when Orbak himself called upon all the dragons he knew. This was rather unheard of - and if he didn't have a good reason to do it, he'd likely be executed. So, Orbak lay there, nervous. His green-gray scales blended in well with the ivy and stone of the ruins, but poorly with the tall grass he rest in. While it would be shoulder-length for a human male, for Orbak it merely rose to his chest. Admittedly young and small for a dragon, he did possess the lithe, streamlined look of a swift dragon, and his eyes often glimmered with the intelligent look of a spellcaster. Still, he lay for all to see upon this stone: waiting for others to arrive.