After nearly two centuries of seclusion in the far reaches of Kalgranoon, the Vasil grew hard and callous. Their struggles made them tough like leather, when once they had been soft and elegant. Their divine magic that had once placed them at the top of the races on Kalgranoon was mysteriously beginning to fade and their prayers to the gods they once held so close went unanswered. The culture of the Vasil became utilitarian and realistic, where it had once been mystic and luxuriant. Finally, they decided that they would not survive on their own and emerged from their underground vaults to a bleached plain battered by the scalding heat of the sun. They wandered the desert for a number of years seeking out the other races, hopping from oasis to oasis of fetid stagnant water. One fateful day, they had been wandering for weeks on end with no water. Many were near death, they thought that the end was finally upon them when suddenly a blue figure appeared like a mirage and ushered them on. They pushed forward under the guidance of this entity and soon found themselves in the shadow of a snow-capped peak in the midst of the desert, untouched by the decimation. Beneath the mountain, which they named Druindar, was a magnificent oasis full of clear, fresh water flowing down the mountainside in a series of glistening white waterfalls. They had been saved.
Here, they erected a small village which they named Aethelhel with a shrine dedicated to "The Blue Sprite." They lived in Aethelhel for a few years, further regaining their numbers and sending scouting parties out to search for signs of the other races. Aethelhel still stands at the foot of Druindar as a testament to the old ways. It resists the constant flow of time and progress led by the Kalnuur. The eldest Vasil of Aethelhel continue to struggle to keep their culture alive in this brave new world as their town slowly grows and the outside oozes in.